Curtain Call
by LetTheLightShine
Summary: A sequel/continuation of "The Worst Fourth Pirate in History." Focuses on Hotch and Haley's developing friendship against a backdrop of abuse, adolescence, and local crime. The two share high school adventures and misadventures, some typical, most not. Along the way, Hotch's passion for justice grows. Please R&R. Rated T for domestic violence, mentions of crime, and some smoking
1. Chapter 1 -- Sight Among Blind Eyes

_**Well, I was getting some requests to continue "The Worst Fourth Pirate in History," and since I have a non-stop flood of ideas, I'm going to give it a shot. There is no foreseeable chapter count yet, as I might let this story keep going for as long as people are interested in reading it. To best determine whether or not to keep writing, I would love to see your reviews! I'm planning to write this in a kind of TV show format with a continuous story told through somewhat self-contained "episodes." Updates might come days apart.**_

_**I'd love to know what you think. We'll see how it goes from here!**_

_**The title comes from this story being based on the friendship that followed the play in the first story.**_

_**Special thanks to Mossnose173 for your support and suggestions. Hope you enjoy!**_

_**As usual, I do not own **_**Criminal Minds** _**or its characters. If I did, I'd be writing more episodes about the team members' pasts!**_

_**-LetTheLightShine**_

CHAPTER ONE — Sight Among Blind Eyes

"Alright, everybody, I want you to substitute (a + 3) for x and write in (a - 3) for y. Rewrite your equation and we'll work it from there."

Through his throbbing headache, Aaron Hotchner couldn't translate Mrs. Gillansy's lecture into English. He couldn't think so hard today. It hurt every muscle in his head.

His pencil was much better at tracing out a Jolly Roger than a senseless equation on his notebook paper. He knew if he didn't pay attention, he would spend another quiz period staring at the wall and praying for the solutions to pop out of the taupe paint. But at this point, he couldn't help it. Math _hurt_. Physically and cruelly.

The TA liked to say that those who did poorly in math couldn't be anything other than frycooks. He said that math geniuses (like himself) had their pick of the highest jobs, and he had his eyes on the FBI.

_Yeah, Mr. Bigshot FBI-wannabe_, Aaron thought when he looked at the TA. _We'll see how far flunking math can take me_.

Maybe if his head was clear and his thoughts uncluttered, he could concentrate and do very well. But the last few days had been a nightmare. He hadn't managed to fit much studying in at all. His stepfather Charles had become a taskmaster who wanted to see Aaron fix every crack and loose nail in the house. Before he knew it, Aaron was also scrubbing dishes, raking leaves, cleaning the car, and fixing the roof. He knew Charles would never forgive him for confronting him about his unfaithfulness. But now Aaron knew his stepfather's other secret, that the man was suffering from lung cancer. It wouldn't be long before Charles had to succumb to full hospital care. And when that time came, Aaron would have only his mother to deal with.

Mother was in worse shape than he'd ever seen her before. He knew she harbored a festering hatred of Charles, but she never dared lose her temper against him. Instead, she hit the bottle harder than ever and carried out her rage on Aaron. Last night had been especially brutal.

Baby Sean could only understand so much. He did not cry as often these days because he was getting used to being ignored. Aaron would come home each day, gaze at the sad but silent infant lying on his blanket on the living room floor, and then quickly get out of the open. He wished he could do more for his little brother, but usually his main concern was delaying the inevitable attack for as long as possible. If his mother couldn't find him, she would disappear into her room with a bottle, and Aaron would put Sean in his crib before going down into the basement for the night.

The one high point of his life was Haley Brooks, whom he met through an epic performance of "The Pirates of Penzance." They had spoken once or twice in the last week, but Aaron was sure they would become closer friends as time went on. She also knew his secret, and she didn't look down on him for constantly getting hurt. She made him feel a little more worthwhile. If she knew the full extent of the tortures he faced at home, she might be repelled or afraid to speak to him. As things were, she extended so much grace.

"Mr. Hotchner?"

Aaron stopped thinking about Haley's kindness—his medicine—and looked up to see Mrs. Gillansy leaning over his desk. All the other students had heads down and pencils scribbling in focused math. He alone sat twitching and tapping his pencil and squirming against the pain he couldn't hide.

His teacher lowered her voice. "Is everything alright?"

"Sorry?"

"Are you okay? Do you need help?"

For a minute, he sat speechless. Was it because of the crescent-shaped bruise from a belt buckle on his forearm, the arm he hadn't covered well enough with a sleeve? Was it because of the tear in his shirt just below the shoulder, where he could still feel the lash? Or was it his overall pale and listless composure that day that gave away his secret? What would she do now that she knew?

"I... I'm okay. It's no so very bad," he said quietly, not wanting a lot of attention just then.

"You tell me that, but the evidence says otherwise."

Aaron swallowed a lump in his throat. "What are you going to do?" he whispered.

"There's only so much I can do on my own. I'm going to recommend you start seeing someone who can offer more specialized help."

Aaron lowered his face and began searching his desk space. What if she meant a hospital? Or what if law enforcement was called? "I don't want the police getting involved," he said softly.

Mrs. Gillansy's eyes widened. "Oh gracious, that won't be necessary. You're failing math, but that's not a criminal matter."

All of a sudden, Aaron felt his mixed trepidation and hope collapse. Mrs. Gillansy hadn't noticed his injuries at all, or if she did, paid them less mind than his performance in math. Maybe that was for the better.

"I understand, Mrs. Gillansy. I'll try to do better."

She patted his hand, right beside a bruise on his wrist. "I'm sure you will. You're a bright young man."

_Bright enough to see that you notice what's really wrong, but don't care enough to do squat about it,_ Aaron thought angrily. For the most part, he didn't want his teacher reacting to his condition. But it irked him to see her glancing at the marks and cuts his sleeve wasn't long enough to hide and then turning away as if a battered student was the most natural thing.

Go ahead, make mathematics the altar of your worship. Nevermind the students who can't study enough because of bigger problems. Sorry I can't live up to your straight-A fantasies.

Suddenly Aaron sat straight up and hurled his math book to the floor. Not giving any explanation or stopping at Mrs. Gillansy's shouts of bewilderment, he got up and darted out into the hallway.

_That was childish of me_, he thought as he marched away. _I should go back and apologize._

But he wasn't sorry. He was fed up. He was angry that his stepfather treated his family so poorly, angry that Sean was so neglected, angry that Mother had abandoned any qualms about beating her oldest son senseless time after time. Most of all, he was angry that nobody seemed to care. He knew he didn't want any serious questions asked or any police investigations started, but he did want the world to wake up and realize some children were hurting very much.

_Why don't they care? Why don't they see anything?_ Aaron saw clusters of teachers and students filling the hallway. A meeting must have just let out. Feeling uncommonly bold, he rolled up both his sleeves as far as they would go. Red cuts and mottled marks stood out on both arms. Let them see. Let them wonder. Let them try to extend a helping hand.

Aaron's heart sunk as he continued down the hall. Students either stared or turned away, but said nothing. A few smirked. Teachers gave weird little nods as he passed or pretended to have something to ask their coworkers. Aaron felt his eyes welling up with tears. How many kids, he wondered, had walked right through these adults' lives with plenty of pain and trouble on display, and nobody did a thing? How many other abused kids filled the corridors, waiting for somebody to step in?

Somebody has to stand up for kids like me. Somebody has to make a small stand for justice.

It was an enormous task for one high schooler to take on alone.

—

"There she is! I'm going to see if she wants to sit at our table."

The handsome baseball player sprang to his feet in time to intercept the pretty blond before a bespectacled boy from another table had the chance. A boy named Vinny glowered a few tables away. The junior girl carried a purple thermos and a tin lunch box with circus designs. She smiled politely as the boy stepped in front of her and made an awkward bow of the head.

Hi there, Mabel, is it? I saw you in the school play last week. It was, man, it was amazing."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Well, I was wondering if, I dunno, you wanted a seat?"

"Oh, I found one. But thank you."

His face fell. "Well, if you ever wanna come over and just say hi, y'know..."

"I appreciate that."

The girl continued on toward a table straight ahead where only one student sat with his face behind a biology textbook. The pitcher arched an eyebrow as he watched the girl sit across from the geeky boy.

Aaron? ... Aaron _Hotchner?_

—

Haley set down her lunch and tipped down the top of the school book with her finger to see the empty table in front of him. "You haven't been bringing any lunch lately," she observed.

"Hmmm."

Haley tipped her head to one side. "You look angry."

Aaron finally met her eye. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Do you want to talk about it?"

Aaron closed his book and leaned over the table. "Everybody here is so blind, so caught up in their own lives."

"Am I?"

"No... No, of course not. You pay attention."

"Well, you never have to hide from me."

He looked at her for a minute, wide eyes showing vulnerability to her kindness. She smiled, suddenly feeling a touch bashful.

"Are you hungry?"

He looked down.

"Hey, I said you don't have to hide." Haley opened her lunch box and removed one half of a tuna fish sandwich. "I have too much anyway."

Aaron gratefully accepted, but he hesitated with the crumbly meal pinched between his fingers. Only once Haley had gotten through half of her share of the sandwich did Aaron inhale his in ten seconds flat.

Haley giggled behind her hand. She couldn't help it. Aaron blushed and smiled along.

—

Her smile, just her presence, was so refreshing. And yet Aaron felt oddly uncomfortable. Perhaps it was better when nobody cared about his problems. He didn't want her to feel like she always had to help him.

"I have to be in dance class with Jessica in seven minutes," Haley said, not noting his discomfort. "Do you want to meet me after class? I'd like to show you something."

Now there was a chance he couldn't pass up. To meet with this special girl instead of going home sounded so wonderful. He nodded.

"Okay. I'll see you by the tree next to the parking lot at 4."

Another nod. He watched her leave, wondering where she found it in her heart to give so much to someone who lacked everything.

And so things had gone on since she designed his pirate scar. She always looked out for him. If only he could return the favor. Aaron wished he could do more for her rather than always relying on her help. Maybe someday...


	2. Chapter 2 -- Of Gossip and Shoe Polish

CHAPTER TWO - Of Gossip and Shoe Polish

Haley gave Aaron a scare by accelerating the truck almost over the curb, then backing up suddenly to within inches of a stout tree. Only then did she stop and gasp, "Oh! Seatbelts!"

"Are you licensed to drive this thing?" Aaron had to ask as he buckled in.

"Of course! I got my license last week, and Dad says I already drive better than Mom does."

"I'd hate to think about that."

"What about you? Don't you have a license?"

When Aaron said nothing but only shook his head, Haley quickly changed the subject. Getting her son licensed to drive was certainly one of his mother's last priorities. He was afraid to even bring it up with her. Deep inside, he felt exhilarated at the prospect of going for a drive with a friend, though he still didn't know where she planned to take him.

Aaron relished the thrill of riding in Mr. Brooks' blue Chevy pickup while Haley drove like the carefree teenager she was. The windows wouldn't close, so the cool fresh air filled his face and lungs with freedom. The radio volume soared, and he found himself shouting over "Jeremiah was a bullfrog" to tell Haley when a red light was coming. They laughed together and smiled about nothing, just happy to be on the moving road to the outskirts of town, far from their troubles.

Haley finally pulled up beside a quaint-looking general store with peeling advertisements for beer and hardware in the windows. Worn-looking tires and wooden barrels lay in stacks around the store, and thin pillars supported a roof that jutted out over the building's front. A sign with faded paint dangled from hooks at the end of the roof: "BROOKS' HARDWARE AND LIQUOR."

Aaron looked at Haley, and she grinned. "It's my dad's store."

"Wait, you want your dad to meet me?"

"C'mon, he won't mind. I just want you to see the place."

_He's going to take one look at me and forbid me from ever seeing Haley again_, Aaron thought as he timidly followed Haley inside.

The store had an old-fashioned charm about it. Any piece of hardware you could think of, especially farming and yardwork equipment, lined the walls and short shelves that cut across the middle of the wood-paneled floor. Old paintings and posters from the 1860's hung on the walls, including Civil War propaganda from both sides. The far wall was choked with shelf upon shelf laden with medicine, postage material, small tools, and countless bottles in every size and color. Bar stools lined the counter edge, and a couple round tables seated small groups of card players or checker players. A low hum of conversation and country radio set the mood.

Roy Brooks, an overweight but seemingly energetic man in a bartender's apron, vigorously wiped down the counter while talking with two customers. Haley beckoned Aaron over.

"Hey, honey," said Mr. Brooks. "Grab up your apron, and let's start cleaning tables!"

"Actually, Dad," she said, "I came with a friend from school. I want you to meet Aaron Hotchner."

Aaron stood back hesitantly until Mr. Brooks waved him over. "Come here and let me get a good look at you, boy."

He squinted at Aaron with a cross between a scowl and an inquiry. Aaron extended his hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brooks." Was his voice shaking?

Mr. Brooks gave his thin hand a firm shake. "And what's your interest in my daughter?"

"We're, uh, we're just friends."

"Yeah," Haley put in. "Just friends."

"Well, Hotchner," Mr. Brooks pressed, "you aren't one of those slackers up at the school who smokes weed during class period, are you?"

"No!"

"And you've never touched a bottle? Never mouthed off a teacher? Never stolen something from the classroom?"

When Aaron's denials turned to stutters, he shook his head intently. He felt a little uneasy by the interrogation. Would Mr. Brooks refuse to trust him as Haley's friend?

Haley came to his rescue, as usual. "He's a great guy, Dad. He never does any of the things on your list. He was in the play last week, remember? Pirate Number Four."

"Oh yes, I remember." Then to Aaron: "You don't really practice piracy, do you?"

"Dad!"

Mr. Brooks gave Aaron a friendly slap on the shoulder, unaware of the flash of pain he triggered. As Aaron stifled a reaction, Mr. Brooks smiled warmly. "I'm only messing with you now, Hotchner. I'll give you my trust, unless you break it."

"Thank you, sir."

Mr. Brooks took two glasses from under the counter. "Sit down, you two. I'll get you a drink, and you can tell me more about yourself."

"A drink?"

Haley nudged him gently in the ribs. "Soda."

As they sipped lemony sodas, Aaron told Mr. Brooks about his favorite classes, the books he liked to read, and his interest in coin collecting. Other than mentioning his baby brother, he avoided any details about his home life. Mr. Brooks took an interest when Aaron mentioned _Treasure Island_, and he heartily recommended other classics such as _The Red Badge of Courage_.

"Your friend has good taste," he told Haley with a wink. He turned his attention back to Aaron, who finally felt at ease. "Would you be in need of a job, young man?"

Aaron hadn't thought of that before, but now he realized what a great solution that would be to minimizing his time at home. "Do you have a job for me?"

"Eager fellow. I could use a bootblack by that window. It doesn't pay great, but you'll get wages in the best gossip in town."

Interesting. Aaron glanced around the room. A dozen small conversations went on at once. Two checker players grumbled about a mutual cleaning lady who apparently swiped apples when she cleaned their kitchens. A couple men at the bar muttered about outwitting an insurance agent. Most interestingly, the four card players at a nearby table discussed a recent breakout from the county jail.

Aaron nodded at Mr. Brooks. "I would like to take the job."

"You ever shined shoes before?"

"I used to shine my father's each day before he went to the law firm."

"Your daddy is a lawyer?"

"Was." No more explanation.

"Well, that's a good enough resume for me. Weekdays, after school. It'll do you some good, learning to have a job. Haley knows. She's always helping out around here."

Aaron looked at Haley and smiled. This may be the best thing she'd done for him yet.

—

_**Featured song- "Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog (Joy to the World)" by Three Dog Night: **_**_ watch?v=QtYnCmw2CWE _**


	3. Chapter 3 -- A Different Path

CHAPTER THREE - A Different Path

—-

This was ridiculous. A kid shouldn't be afraid to get cereal in the morning. Aaron held back behind the kitchen doorway, wishing the voices and rustling papers would go away. Whenever he peered around the corner, the scene was the same. Mother and Charles sat at the kitchen table arguing through piles of bills. Charles kept getting up and pacing out his frustration as he puffed on a cigarette. Mother kept reaching for the grimy vodka bottle that left wet rings on the papers. Sean sat ignored in a high chair with banana smeared on his face.

"Maybe if you drank less..." Charles growled.

"Maybe if you smoked less!" snapped mother. "Someone's got to give something up, and it's not gonna be me!"

Aaron glanced at the clock. He would be late for school if he didn't hurry up and get breakfast. _Go away_, he willed the adults. Another minute later, he took a deep breath and ducked into the kitchen.

With the adults tied up in their dispute, he thought he could make it to the cupboard unnoticed. He figured he would take the box of Wheaties into the next room, have a few handfuls without milk, and then sneak it back before hurrying out of the house. He almost made it to the cupboard.

"Wait, Aaron!" Mother jumped to her feet and caught his arm.

Oh, drat. Aaron stiffened and avoided eye contact. _Don't start slapping me. You'll never stop._

"Aaron," Mother said again, half to herself. "How could we forget Aaron?"

A strange, plastic smile started reshaping her face. Aaron leaned back a little against the cupboard, wary of the mood that was coming over her.

"Aaron, honey, why don't you have a seat? We need to talk."

"Uh... About what? Sorry, I really can't be late for school."

"Yes, you can. You know what I heard through the grapevine?"

He was afraid to ask.

"I heard that you got a job. One of the programmers who works with Charles said that you shined his shoes."

Charles spat onto the floor in disgust. "That's right. We've got a freaking bootblack in the house."

Aaron felt his stomach turn to ice. He had only been working for Mr. Brooks about a week, and he had done everything in his power to keep it a secret. He didn't want Mother and her crony exploiting the bright spot in his life.

_Just my luck_.

"How much do you make?" Mother demanded. She still had not released his arm.

"Very little. Hardly worth mentioning."

"But it's something, isn't it? Come on, tell me your hourly wage."

Aaron thought briefly of lying. If he said something truly trifling like $1.50, she might leave his earnings alone. However, she would quickly find out he made twice as much. He should have known she always found things out.

A sudden sharp slap to the ear made his decision for him. "Three dollars," he told her. "Just... three an hour."

"For how many hours?"

"Two a day. That's all."

His mother completed the mental math quickly. "You make $30 in a week? What could you possibly need $30 for?"

Anything he said would sound unimportant to her, he knew. Now it didn't matter. "Savings. Someday I might need to buy a car..."

Charles scoffed loudly from the table.

"You're being ridiculous," said Mother. "You have more important things to worry about right now than unlikely future events."

No matter how much he wanted to be like other teenagers, Aaron knew he was still subject to her version of reality. He really couldn't fight it. "That's right," he muttered.

"I want you to keep working," Mother ordered. "Don't stop for a day. And I want to see six dollars on the table every evening, or else you'll have to sleep on the street when we can't afford this house anymore."

Aaron struggled to keep his anger at bay. How could she use him like this? Why didn't Charles work more? Why didn't they use their money wisely?

"If things get worse again," she continued, "you can always take on another job. It's a good thing we have so many resources to pull from."

Now he was very angry. He wanted to live his own life apart from his mother's control. A job was a step towards independence. This manipulation of his job was a step back into subjugation.

"Or maybe you were right earlier," he said in a low voice, shaking at the thought of his own audacity. "Maybe if you didn't spend so much on alcohol and cigarettes, you wouldn't need extra income."

Mother looked shellshocked. Charles stood and yanked the cigarette from his teeth, gazing at Aaron disdainfully. Sean watched with such a blank expression Aaron didn't think a tornado would faze him.

Then Mother knocked Aaron to the floor with another, heavier slap to the ear. He tried to catch himself on the counter edge, but his fingers slipped and he sprawled on the tile. Mother's shoe snapped up into his chin, throwing him back against the oven door.

"Tell me when he wakes," said Charles. "Then I'll go a round with him." With that, he staggered out of the room.

Aaron cringed, arms across his face, waiting for more. But when Mother leaned down to reach for him, it wasn't to deliver a blow. She seized his collar in both fists and pulled his face close to hers.

"Don't think I can give up the bottle that easy," she hissed. "It's the only thing keeping me from missing your father so much I could kill myself. You would feel exactly the same if your security was threatened."

There was no point in mentioning his sense of security was long gone. He now felt even angrier at his mother.

It occurred to Aaron that he was a tall, potentially strong teenaged boy. Though his mother leaned over him with all her anger holding him down, he knew it wouldn't take much to throw her aside and return all the unrestrained beatings he had suffered since tragedy made him fatherless. Mother was of slight build, just like him, and she was also buzzed with alcohol. He could overpower her faster than she took him down. Maybe she would even benefit from getting knocked to her senses. At very least, she would get some idea of the agony she thoughtlessly dished out on her son.

As Aaron imagined his revenge, he glanced aside to see the baby in the highchair. Sean continued to stare, having watched the entire scuffle without reaction. Regularly watching his mother beat his big brother had damaged the poor boy's mind. He rarely smiled, and he did not react negatively to violence like he used to. He had learned that violence was normal. For him to then see his big brother use violence to right violence... to attack his own mother... That would ruin his conscience forever. He needed to see somebody who avoided lashing out to solve their problems.

Aaron looked back at his mother's eyes. She continued to gaze angrily at him from half a foot away. Deep in her fiery glare, Aaron could see a shadow of sorrow. He had seen that sorrow lingering since Father died, the same sorrow he saw in his own eyes whenever he looked at his miserable reflection. Aaron knew the shadow would never leave completely. It was something he wanted to come to terms with in order to function in his life.

Mother had never accepted that. She hid the sorrow in alcohol and anger, never wanting to deal with it. And now here they were, victims of the same sadness but with different outcomes. And Aaron knew he could never beat up his mother, though she hurt him more than she'd ever know. To really get past the pain in his past, Aaron knew he had to find a different path.

He couldn't hurt his mother. Oh goodness, no. _Dear God, forgive me for thinking of it._

Aaron searched briefly for the compassionate mommy he once knew. He looked for the face he used to gaze at while she sang calming rhymes. He looked for the smile that wished him well on his first day of school. When he found no trace of her, he looked away.

"Do I make myself clear?" said Mother.

Aaron nodded.

"Then get to school."

She got up and returned to her bottle. Aaron breathed a sigh of relief that the attack lasted no longer. He scrambled to his feet, gave Sean a quick kiss on the head, and ran outside without looking back.

No breakfast, no lunch. Fine. He'd done it before. Aaron Hotchner coped through endurance.


	4. Chapter 4 -- Amphibian Autopsy

CHAPTER FOUR - Amphibian Autopsy

—-

Aaron had his elbow on the desk and his head casually resting against his hand so it wouldn't be obvious he was holding his right ear. Red pain radiated from his ear throughout his head and neck, but he couldn't let that get in the way of biology lab day. As students filed into their places and laid out their equipment, he gave his ear a final rub and dropped his hand to the desk. _Ignore it!_

"Guess what?"

Aaron jumped at the voice directly to his left. He turned and his eyes widened with pleasant surprise when he saw Haley.

"Hey! I didn't know you were..."

"My dad pulled a few strings, and I managed to switch biology classes." Haley beamed. "I didn't know anybody in the other one."

"Well... Wow, I am so glad you're here. I don't know anybody else either."

"For real? Maybe you should check out some of the clubs or sports teams later."

"Huh?"

"I'm kidding! You know me, right? We can be friends _and_ lab partners."

"Yeah. That will be interesting."

He actually wanted to hug her on the spot, but he restrained. _Haley Brooks, you always know when I need a friend_. They carried on small talk about popular music until the teacher, Mr. Arnold, strode behind his desk and cleared his throat.

"Good morning, class. This is going to be an exciting day. Those who have read the syllabus know what's in store."

"What's in store?" Haley whispered.

"I didn't read the syllabus," whispered Aaron.

"Continuing our study of anatomy, we have a special project." Mr. Arnold lifted the lid from a wooden crate on his desk. Then he began removing clear glass jars, each containing an inert frog.

Aaron heard Haley's sharp intake of breath.

"My teaching assistant, Vinny, will pass out the frogs. There are enough for teams of two to share one."

Vinny, looking as grim as ever, deposited a jar in front of each team. He paused in front of Aaron and Haley, and his scowl became several shades darker. Aaron shot back a "go away" glare.

While Mr. Arnold droned on, Aaron prepared the frog on its platter. Haley held back.

"Do you want to start?" Aaron asked her.

"That's okay. I'll watch you get it started."

Carefully following the teacher's instructions, Aaron made the Y-shaped incisions across the frog's belly.

"Aaron," said Haley quietly.

"Yeah?"

"There's something you should know."

"Now," said Mr. Arnold, "use your scalpel to peel back the skin. I want you to observe the layers of tissue and fat as you go."

"What do I need to know?" whispered Aaron as he gently opened the frog.

"I can't stand guts."

He looked up at her. Her face had gone pale.

"Do you need to sit down?" he asked.

"No, I... I think I'll be okay. I just can't think about it."

"Let me know if you need to leave."

As Aaron continued prying back layers of frog, he couldn't help getting lost in the fascination. He marveled at the tiny lungs and the heart. It amazed him that so much design could be packed into such a small and compact body.

"Could you label these organs on the chart for me?" he asked, eyes still on the circulatory system. "Haley?"

Her pencil skittered across the tabletop. Haley seemed to have lost all her bones as she collapsed to one side. Aaron dropped his tools in time to catch her. Her eyes lolled backward and she felt limp, but surprisingly heavy, in his arms.

"Somebody! Mr. Arnold! She needs help!"

He had everybody's attention now. Mr. Arnold rushed around the desk and helped support Haley's dead weight. "Let's take her out into the hallway."

Aaron helped his teacher carry his friend into the empty corridor and lay her on a bench. Aaron found his heart racing as he felt her forehead, checked her pulse, and listened to her breathing. "Haley? Can you hear me?"

"She'll be fine, Hotchner," Mr. Arnold insisted. "I'm sure she just got a little lightheaded."

She moaned, and her eyes fluttered.

"Haley?"

"I'll fetch the nurse just to check her out," said Mr. Arnold. "I assure you, your girlfriend will be okay."

"She's not my..."

Mr. Arnold was already halfway down the hall.

Aaron focused on Haley. He held her hand and watched her eyes. _I'm overreacting. I know I am._ He just couldn't help thinking about how his father died, suddenly, without warning. He simply collapsed at work, taken by a heart attack that nobody saw coming. Aaron feared that people he loved most would be lost the quickest, the most unexpectedly.

"Don't go," he mumbled. "I can't lose you."

Her eyes blinked open slowly. She saw him staring down at her, and confusion registered in her face. "Aaron...?"

"Haley! Are you okay?"

"Were you... crying?"

"No... I..." Aaron quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. "No, I'm fine. How are you?"

"Where am I?"

"You passed out in class. We're in the hallway."

"I passed out?" Her cheeks flushed. "Oh, goodness. That is mortifying."

"I guess it was the frog guts."

"An amphibian autopsy. Horrible."

"Does that make me a coroner?"

"It makes you... someone who's not afraid of blood and guts, I guess." She smiled.

Aaron chuckled nervously, now feeling a little embarrassed at his overreaction. "Are you able to sit up?"

She let him help her up, then sat back against the wall and sighed. "Well, I guess people will be talking about this one till graduation."

Aaron just focused on calming himself. _Come on, you knew she'd be fine!_

"I'm sorry I messed you up," Haley said. "I hope this doesn't affect your grade."

"That doesn't matter. I'll try to remember not to cut open animals around you."

"That would be great. I don't know why I can't handle dead stuff. It's just... ughh!"

Aaron couldn't help laughing. Haley laughed too.

And the TA, Vinny, watched the pair angrily from the classroom doorway. He went back inside with a heart of malice and a headful of hateful schemes.


	5. Chapter 5 -- Our Turn at Bat

**_Thanks, Mossnose173, for the Vinny idea! Hope this is to your liking._**

CHAPTER FIVE - Our Turn at Bat

—-

Aaron Hotchner kept a special list hidden in his tatty sneaker. He wrote down what he learned about Haley Brooks, special details and idiosyncrasies that made her unique. He wanted to keep track of her likes and dislikes and interests so that he could get to know her better and avoid hurting her sensitivities. She was the one person in his life he couldn't bear to alienate through misunderstanding.

_Haley's Likes: soda, the Rolling Stones, acting and dancing, musicals. And that dork David Cassidy, who doesn't know how to cut his hair._

_Haley's Dislikes: Comic books, slow cars, reptiles and amphibians, the Beatles (which really sucks because their music rocks). And dead things. And gore. Big time._

He felt responsible for shielding her from the things she hated, especially the things that would make her feel unwell.

In the meantime, she seemed to be looking out for his needs and interests as well. She clearly recognized his lack of friends and began introducing him to hers. Half her friends were members of drama club, and the rest were either dancers, baseball players, or nerds. Aaron hit it off with some of the ball players, and, at Haley's urging, signed up for baseball tryouts. A couple freshmen would continue searching for weeks for the ball Aaron hit far out of the field on his first swing. The pitcher, a rough, loud-spoken redhead named Jimmy, quickly told him about the importance of controlling his strength.

It felt amazing to be accepted into the group. Aaron had never felt more welcome. Peter, a chubby younger kid who ran the bases faster than anyone, looked up to Aaron in a curious but brotherly way. Jimmy offered to explain the rules of the game to him every recess. And Haley always watched supportively from the bleachers.

Aaron started getting very excited about going to school each day. With an evening job and now baseball practices packing his schedule, he managed to stay away from home for most of the daylight hours. His day only looked down when he crept into his home after seven and placed his hard-earned six dollars on the stained kitchen table.

At school today, Aaron sat on one of the metal picnic tables in the courtyard, surrounded by teammates and Haley. While the boys talked baseball strategy, Haley read her script for an upcoming ballet. The conversation drifted frequently from schoolwork to sports to TV specials. One boy wanted to pass a joint around, but he was quickly reprimanded. Another boy was ready to start throwing a ball around, but Jimmy said it was bound to hit a member of the math study group at the next table.

"Maybe that was my intent, ever think of that?" the boy joked.

"Hey, did you hear about that guy on the news?" another boy interjected. "Broke out of county jail and might have been sighted downtown."

"What's he done?" asked Aaron.

"He was doing time for some kind of burglary charge. I'll bet he's dangerous."

"Well, I hope he's found," said Haley.

"What does he look like?" Aaron asked, curious now.

"Gee, I dunno. Check your TV. He's probably got a black mask on."

"Not if he wants to blend into society."

"Who cares, man? I'm just interested because it makes my ma skittish. It's all I hear about at home."

Haley checked her watch. "You ready to go?"

She normally drove Aaron to Mr. Brooks' store after school. Aaron looked forward to the reckless and carefree drive everyday. "Yeah, in a sec."

"Go where?" A new voice broke into the group.

Aaron turned to see Vinny standing unsteadily with a metal crowbar a few yards away. His eyes looked bloodshot, and he couldn't focus on anybody. His clothing reeked of cheap beer.

"Vinny?" Aaron slid off the table to his feet. "You don't look too well."

"Oh, don't I? I feel fine, just fine!" Vinny's voice pitched unreasonably loud. All the conversations in the courtyard died down.

Aaron knew that Vinny was hiding his own story of abuse and wondered if he needed to get some help. He took a step closer. "What's the matter?"

"You! You and my girl!" Vinny pointed with the crowbar. "You have no business taking her away."

Aaron glanced back at Haley, who looked a little stunned.

"What are you talking about?" asked Haley.

"You're mine, Brooks. Get over here."

"Calm down," said Aaron. "You're not feeling well."

"Shut up! I want her back."

"She was never yours. You can't just take her like that. Now back off, Vinny. You need to get some help."

Vinny swung back and struck him in the stomach with the crowbar. Aaron doubled over and dropped to his hands and knees. The courtyard spun, and he spat up bile. Frantically, he searched for steady ground and tried to get back up. Only then did he see that half the boys on the baseball team had run to his aid.

Peter knelt beside Aaron and steadied his shoulders. Jimmy raised the baseball bat to engage Vinny in a pseudo-sword fight. Everybody else joined in the fight, grabbing Vinny's limbs and hitting his trunk. Aaron was actually shocked that anybody had come to his defense.

But Vinny was extra strong in his drunken rage. He broke free from the boys and began hacking at tables and chairs and shrubbery with his crowbar. Students backed away in every direction. Vinny was utterly out of control.

"Idiots!" he bellowed. "You're all monsters! I'll kill you all!"

Haley came to Aaron's side as he stood and thanked him quietly for standing up for her. Jimmy ran to fetch security.

When the guards finally arrived and pinned Vinny down, the courtyard resembled a bombed plaza. Aaron continued listening to Vinny's hollered threats to kill everybody as the boy was taken away. Then the buzz began. Students passed morsels of gossip from one to another and shook their heads in dismay. Aaron overheard someone saying that Vinny's dad recently died in a hunting accident. He wondered if that meant Vinny's abuse had ended. Clearly his troubles had not.

Aaron headed back to the ball players, who stood dusting themselves off and congratulating each other. "Thanks," he said, humbled.

"Hey, you're on the team now," said Jimmy. "We expect you to fight our battles too."

_What an honor_, thought Aaron. After months of taking so many assaults on his own, he marveled at being backed up by a team. Of course, he would stand up for them too. And in this case, they all stood up for Haley.

As Aaron climbed into Mr. Brooks' pickup, he asked his chauffeur, "Did you ever date Vinny?"

Haley made a face. "Date him? Gosh no. We, uh... hung out a few times in drama club, but we were never together."

"Well, I hope he gets the help he needs." Aaron privately thought that Vinny had the makings of some kind of killer.

"Uh huh." Haley cranked up the radio. Soon "The Eye of the Tiger" filled the cab with its victorious rhythm.

As they drove, it occurred to Aaron that he hadn't taken Haley on a proper date yet. Soon, he promised. She deserved a little kindness in return.

—

**_Featured song: "Eye of the Tiger," by Survivor: _**  
**_ watch?v=QEjgPh4SEmU _**

**_Beatles reference in _Criminal Minds_: _****_ watch?v=nXN9KiM4OC0_**

**_The scene from season 1 where Hotch encounters Vinny Perotta, and Hotch's past is implied: watch?v=WdYmnRCr4rQ. Long video; Hotch first comes in at 0:55. Important dialogue begins at 9:01. At 6:40, Vincent says "Hey, look who's here. My old friend," when Hotch walks in._**


	6. Chapter 6 -- Five Dollars and a Seed

CHAPTER SIX - Five Dollars and a Seed

—-

Aaron rubbed the brush in small circles in the dish of shoe polish. Specks of black stained the knees of his jeans, but overall he avoided messes. The man on the bench didn't look up from his paper as Aaron polished the black leather of his shoe.

"Look at the front page," said a black-haired Italian-American in a tidy suit who sat at the bar. He was apparently new to this town.

His friend on the bootblack bench shuffled through the pages. "I saw the headline, Dave. I just want to know what leads the police have."

From where he knelt, Aaron could glance up and see the headline too. DOUBLE HOMICIDE GRIPS SMALL CITY! Below the bold text was a jail mugshot of a bald, mustached man with wide eyes. It was the same man who broke out of jail recently.

"I say if the county can't keep its scoundrels locked up, the police won't be much good in finding them," said Mr. Brooks, as opinionated as ever.

"Says here they found the throats slashed wide open," said the man on the bench, ignoring Mr. Brooks. "Somebody was angry."

Aaron wanted to know more. He knew this was something he'd have to shield Haley from, but in his own time, the details intrigued him. How could someone do something so evil? The same question that came up whenever his mother slapped him around.

"What's the relationship between the victims and the killer?" Aaron asked suddenly, not stopping the polish.

The man peered over his newspaper. "Pardon?"

"Well, sir, I just wondered how the victims are related to the killer. I can't imagine someone committing such a violent murder against people he didn't know."

The man frowned, studying Aaron. He had tightly curled, short brown hair and a face full of inquiry. He wore a brown corduroy jacket and red collared shirt, and there was something very official about his neat appearance. He and his friend at the bar were probably in their late twenties.

"You think they knew each other? What else do you think?"

Aaron scraped the brush in more powder as he thought. He really hadn't had time to develop his theory, but he wanted very much to engage in a discussion about this interesting subject. "I do wonder how the killer slit both victims' throats. Did one watch while he did they first one? Were either of them bound and gagged? Or maybe he incapacitated them first. But why? Was the actual cutting of the throats the thing that he looked forward to?"

"What do you mean 'looked forward to'?"

"I don't know, really. Maybe he enjoys cutting throats. Or maybe it symbolizes some other fixation or frustration. He could have... maybe he wanted to cut off their voice. Maybe he planned that part purposely. I don't honestly know, sir. I'm just spitballing."

The man at the bar pulled at his tie and raised his glass to his lips. "You've got half a bag more brains than our supervisor does, young man," he said. "Maybe you should be working the case with us."

Aaron paused the circular motion he was making on the other man's boot. "You're working the case?"

The Italian-American nodded. "Your chief of police wanted the FBI looking at it."

Aaron's jaw went a little loose. "You're FBI?" His neck swiveled to look at the man whose shoes he was shining. "And you too?"

"That's right," said the man on the bench, smiling a little. "But don't let that throw you. We're decent fellas."

"You, maybe," snickered the man at the bar.

"What's your name, son?" asked the man on the bench.

"Aaron Hotchner, sir."

"Nice to meet you." The man reached down over his paper to shake Aaron's stained hand. "I'm Jason Gideon."

Aaron was speechless. He polished the shoe of a federal agent!

"And my friend over there is David Rossi," Gideon went on.

Rossi gave a half-salute. "Pleasure meeting you, kiddo."

"It's an honor to meet you both," Aaron stuttered. He now realized he had spilled a dash of polish on his light blue longsleeved shirt.

"Now, why are you so interested in this case?" Gideon asked.

"I don't know, Agent Gideon. I guess I'm always curious about why people do evil things. I want to better understand why a crime happens."

"That's something you'll never understand. But you can know it's evil, and you can fight it with all your might."

"Are you planning to join the FBI, Hotch?" Rossi asked.

"It's Hotchner, sir, and no, I hadn't thought of that. I think I want to be a lawyer, like my dad was."

"Well, the FBI can always use good lawyers," said Gideon.

Aaron finished polishing the other shoe. He could barely contain his excitement. If only Haley was here today instead of at another dance rehearsal.

Gideon reached into his pocket and withdrew a five dollar bill. "You've done a fine job on these old shoes, and I enjoyed talking to you. Here's a tip."

Aaron couldn't believe it. "But Agent Gideon, I can't accept..."

"Go ahead," said Mr. Brooks while he bent over to reach under the bar. "You earned your money, boy."

Aaron gingerly took the large sum. "Thank you, sir."

Gideon had one more thing for him, a small card embossed with a number. "If you want to reach my office, call in a tip or just ask a question, don't be afraid to dial me up. And keep up with this case, son. You might learn something more."

"Yeah, like murder really sucks." Rossi gave a crooked smile as came up beside his friend. "Ready to go, Jason?"

Gideon folded up the newspaper and left it in its rack. Aaron stood, and the agent shook his hand once more. "Keep watch," Gideon said.

Before following his partner to the door, Rossi also shook Aaron's hand. "Take care of yourself, Hotch. You're a good kid. And go get yourself a bite to eat; you look starved half to death."

Aaron nodded. "Good luck to you both," he said as they left. "And stay safe."

"Bright kid," he heard Rossi mutter to his friend as they exited the store.

Aaron turned to Mr. Brooks, who looked less than impressed by the visitors.

"Wow!" was all Aaron could say.


	7. Chapter 7 -- War of Wills

CHAPTER SEVEN - War of Wills

—

"Park on the next block, in front of the laundromat."

Following Aaron's directions, Haley haphazardly parallel-parked the truck and hopped out. "We're having our first date in a laundromat?"

Aaron grinned slyly. "Yeah. I thought we could sit together on a washing machine, eat crackers, and watch other people's clothing spin itself silly."

Haley was giving him an arched eyebrow. "How romantic. Where are we really going?"

Aaron gestured with his arm. "Right here. We can sit on a dryer if you'd rather."

"You're not serious."

He wanted to savor it another second. She really bought it! "Of course not!" he laughed.

Haley gave him a playful push. "I knew that!"

"We're going to the cafe next door. You'll like it, I promise." Aaron kept his fist wrapped around the five dollar bill in his pocket, not wanting to lose his only untaxed earnings too soon. The opportunity he'd waited weeks for was here at last, thanks to FBI agent Jason Gideon.

Aaron had to kid with Haley on their way to the cafe. Anything to get over the mild feeling of shame he felt by not being able to drive his date on their first outing. He felt awkward and inadequate, but Haley's grace made everything easier.

Long before he knew any girls, Aaron had always envisioned his first date as a fantasy of joy and romance. He would drive a fast car—the latest, coolest model on the market—and the dream girl at his side would put her hands out the top as they soared. He would buy her a three-course meal, and she would kiss his face in delight. Then maybe they would go to a long movie, kiss through half of it, and spend the rest of the night driving full speed with the top down. He couldn't get driving out of his head.

Though reality was nowhere near the dream, he was with Haley, and it was much, much better this way. He felt enraptured at the chance to spend Friday's lunch period with her, though they didn't have a lot of time.

Aaron held the cafe door for Haley. "My father used to take us here as a family," he said. "I haven't been here ever since."

It was a small diner with echoes of the 50's shouting out from the tiny booths and square tables. Very few patrons sat about the narrow space, and a teenager mopped what little floor space remained uncovered. A rattly ceiling fan _whop-whopped_ casually in circles, and pictures of pop stars from the 50's and 60's crowded every wall. Aaron grinned. It hadn't changed much.

He noticed the Beatles' "Let It Be" playing gently over the radio, and he looked quickly at Haley. "Oh, I forgot you don't like the fab four."

Haley looked too gleeful to notice. "I can tolerate them. Besides, this place is lovely."

Aaron smiled too. Then he looked out over the tables, and his smile faded. He saw his stepfather Charles sitting in a booth at the far wall, but he wasn't alone. He wasn't with Mom, either. A voluptuous young woman with a mane of curly blond hair sat beside him draping her slender arm around his waist. Their faces came close together and they snickered through an unintelligible conversation.

"Aaron, what's wrong?" Haley asked.

"That's my stepfather," he whispered, nodding in the man's direction. "And that's... our neighbor from down the street."

Haley gasped.

"She plays cards with Mom sometimes. They get along better than any of Mom's friends from before Dad died."

Haley seemed unsure of what to say for a minute. Then she quietly said, "I'm sorry, Aaron. Do you want to leave?"

Initially, he did. But now he had a better idea. "No," he said. "I want to show him what love is supposed to look like."

Haley's smile crept back. "Sounds intriguing."

Aaron took her hand. "Come on. Let's find a good seat."

He led her ever so gently to a table just yards from where Charles sat with his partner. Only one empty table stood between them. Aaron gave Charles a hard stare. Charles did a double take, and his face darkened with recognition. Aaron then removed his attention from the cheating stepfather and held a chair for Haley.

She sat gracefully, and then Aaron went around and sat across from her. He could feel Charles' glare burning into his back, but he focused completely on Haley. The social awkwardness he feared would choke the experience was no longer an issue. He felt a little upset at Charles, but more so he was confident he could talk to Haley without being nervous.

Aaron handed Haley the menu and hoped she'd find something he could cover with only five dollars. "What sounds good, Haley?"

She looked slowly through the options, unable to hold back a soft smile. "What do you suggest?"

"I always enjoyed the spicy chicken sandwich. Do you like chicken, Haley?"

"I do. May I try that?"

"Yes, ma'am." _We're at $2.15. _"Would you like anything else?"

"Lemonade would be lovely."

Aaron smiled and nodded. From the corner of his eye, he could see Charles casting disbelieving glances at him. He refused to acknowledge the glares.

Aaron gave the order to a high school-aged waitress, grateful he just had enough to cover two sandwiches and a lemonade. While they waited, he and Haley held hands across the table.

"Your earrings are beautiful," Aaron commented, seeing the emerald studs.

"Thank you. My mother gave them to me."

"How are your dance rehearsals going?"

"Wonderful. I've been mentoring Jessica, and we finally mastered a pirouette and adage. However, the jumps will take a lot more work."

Aaron didn't know ballet moves, but he pictured Haley dancing and it looked perfect. He asked more questions about the dance style, and she willingly explained moves and techniques.

When the meal arrived, Aaron said grace. He then distributed the sandwiches and opened Haley's straw for her.

"You're quite the gentleman," she giggled.

"My father was a wonderful example."

Aaron shot a sideways glance in his stepfather's direction. His stomach churned when he glimpsed Charles grip the woman's head and pull her into a long, slobbery kiss. He seemed intent on spiting Aaron.

Aaron gently withdrew his hand from Haley's. "How is your sandwich?"

"Perfect," she said, mouth full.

Aaron made sure the salt and pepper were within her reach. Charles was still wrapped in a sensual kiss. It seemed the only way he knew to express affection.

Aaron knew he and Haley were better than that. They continued to talk politely and respectfully about school, interests, and dreams. Aaron kept making Haley laugh with his dry wit, and more than once she had to hide behind a napkin to conceal the bite in her mouth as she cracked up. They restrained from touching each other anymore, determined to demonstrate a relationship of substance rather than physical closeness.

Charles had resurfaced from the suffocating kiss. He glowered at the two young friends, seemingly wishing they would separate or leave. Unable to attack them directly, he turned back to the woman and forced her into another rough kiss.

Aaron felt deeply unsettled by what was happening in the nearby booth. He fought it the only way he could think of, by treating Haley with the utmost respect.

When he saw that Haley had finished, he asked if she needed anything else. He knew he was out of change, but he figured he could wash dishes in exchange for whatever she needed. But she only asked for a glass of water.

Aaron got up, took her glass, and walked right past Charles to the counter. A server cranked the tap, and Aaron returned the full glass to Haley.

Charles stood suddenly and pulled the woman after him with an arm around her shoulders. Leaving behind an untouched meal and two half-empty beers, he stormed out of the diner with the girl looking slightly less thrilled than she appeared before Aaron and Haley arrived.

"I guess he got sick of watching us," said Haley.

"Good. He was making me sick."

"Well, you don't have to stop."

"Stop what?"

"Being such a gentleman."

Aaron smiled. "It's been a real pleasure spending time with you, Haley. Thank you for being my friend."

"The pleasure is all mine."

"Ah well. Back to class. Back to the anguish of math."

Haley cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, you're on bad terms with math?"

"You could say that. We haven't spoken in months."

"I'm not saying I'm an expert or anything, but how would you like to come to my house tomorrow and study the concepts you're struggling with?"

"You're good at acting _and_ math?"

Haley grinned, then began singing a line from a song in "The Pirates of Penzance," the play that brought them together:

"I'm very well acquainted, too, with matters mathematical,

I understand equations, both the simple and quadratical..."

Aaron broke into a rapturous grin and joined in the song:

"About binomial theorem I'm teeming with a lot o' news,

With many cheerful facts about the square of the hypotenuse."

They both dissolved into laughter. When Aaron caught his breath, he happily told her, "I would love to join you in a study session, Haley Brooks. Math has met its match."

With the date set, the two of them left the five dollars on the table and walked out together, hands to themselves, overflowing with gratitude for that friend at their side.

—

Aaron didn't know what to expect when he got home that evening. As soon as he closed the front door, Charles grabbed him violently by the shoulders and slammed him back into the wall. "I am going to thrash you so good if you say one word to your mama," the man snarled. "You won't be able to lie down for weeks."

Aaron stared steadily into the angry eyes and saw a trace of concern. "I believe you," he said. "But what if I don't tell her? Will you stay away from me if I keep your secret?"

"What? Is this some kind of blackmail?"

"I'm asking you not to order me around, not to insult me or my father, and not to hit me. Only if you do this, I won't tell Mom you're messing with her neighbor."

Charles' fist trembled with fury at his side. "I ought to put these knuckles right through your eye."

"You do that, and I'll go straight to Mom and tell her about—"

"That's enough! Stay out of my sight, and I won't bother you. But not a word, you hear? If I find out you've blabbed, you might as well kiss all your bones goodbye."

"I'll hold you to this deal," said Aaron, unflinching.

"Yeah, I'll bet you will." Charles abruptly held his fist up to Aaron's face and shook it, as if showing how much he longed to pummel the boy. "One day you'll be in so much trouble, and nobody's gonna be there for you. You are a scoundrel."

"No more than you. Excuse me, Charles." And Aaron walked right past his tormentor. He exhaled in relief, amazed he had pulled off the bargain. Of course, he had no way of holding back Mother's attacks, but Charles was stronger, and now he was out of the picture.

Aaron flopped onto his back on the couch, glad he felt free to do so. He began flipping through his math notebook and smiled as butterflies filled his stomach. He was looking forward to an uninterrupted Saturday with his best friend.

Charles sulked and muttered for only a moment more, then bounded upstairs and slammed the bedroom door. Though Aaron knew his leverage might not last permanently, he felt victorious for today.

—

_**Author Note: Unless it's against some rule, I've decided to provide links to any songs that are referenced in the chapters. I like looking up songs that are mentioned in stories, so I've provided them here for you. You can check back on the other chapters if you like (specifically 2 and 5) and see that I've added songs there.**_

_**This chapter:**_

"_**Let It Be," by the Beatles: **_**_ watch?v=wGCMznqgqhE_**

"_**Modern Major General," by Gilbert and Sullivan: **__** watch?v=Z2OcbeGqbpU**_


	8. Chapter 8 -- Guilt

_**Long, sad chapter. Sorry. :( And warning for violence.**_

CHAPTER EIGHT - Guilt

—-

Haley couldn't stop looking at the kitchen clock. Aaron should have arrived an hour ago. He said his home was a twenty minute walk away, and he insisted on arriving by foot. Now Haley wished she'd picked him up.

"Wasn't he late to the play last month?" Jessica asked nonchalantly as she fixed a salad. "It's like him to be late, but he always does show up eventually."

"Not this late." Haley tapped her foot. She got up and began pacing in the roomy kitchen.

Mrs. Brooks came downstairs in a jogging suit with her hair tied up. "I'm going for a run, girls. Can you keep an eye on things for thirty minutes?"

"Of course, Mom," said Jessica. "I'll have lunch ready when you're back."

Mrs. Brooks gave Haley a questioning look. "I thought you were having a friend over?"

"I am. He's not here yet."

"Well, you guys have a good time, and I'll see you later."

Their mom gave Jessica a kiss goodbye, then planted one on Haley's worried head.

Soon after Mrs. Brooks left, Haley went outside to the porch swing to watch the street. _Aaron! You can be so frustrating._

A minute later, Jessica stuck her head out the front door. "Telephone. It's Aaron." She made a funny face.

Haley jumped up and took the receiver from her sister's hand. The cord was pulled taut, so she stepped back inside. "Where are you?"

"Haley?" Aaron sounded a little exasperated. A crying baby could be heard in the background. "I'm so sorry. I can't come over today. I have to watch Sean."

"What do you mean? Are you two home alone?"

"Yeah. I woke up this morning and found Sean screaming in his crib. He's got a fever. Mom and Charles have disappeared without explanation, and I've been trying to calm him all morning."

Haley sat down at the table. Jessica sat across from her, persistent in her role of nosy sister. "That's too bad," said Haley. Then she thought of something. "Why don't I come over and help you with him?"

"I don't know when they'll be back. It's not a good idea."

"Oh, come on, Aaron. That's not enough to keep me away. I'll come over, help Sean calm down, and then maybe we can still look at your math homework. Trust me, I was helping change Jessica's diapers when I was just three years old."

Jessica gave her dirty look.

"Thanks, but that's not really my main concern," said Aaron.

"What is? Don't you think your mom would like to meet me? And if your stepfather shows up, I'll tell him it was my idea."

"You don't understand."

"I'm not afraid, Aaron. Please let me help you. I want to swing by."

She heard him breathing on the other end of the line. How could he possibly say no to her simple offer?

"Well, maybe we can get away with it. But you can't stay long. And park across the street."

"No worries. I'll be right there."

"Would you mind picking up some milk on your way?"

"I'll do that."

Aaron gave his address, and Haley returned the phone to its cradle.

"What just happened?" said Jessica. "Are you really leaving the house while there's lunch to make?"

"You seem to have it handled pretty well. C'mon, Jess, I won't be long. I can't miss this chance."

"Chance for what?"

"To see him again!"

Jessica groaned. "You are so lovestruck."

"You're just jealous."

Haley arrived across the street from the Hotchner home about ten minutes later. She double-checked the address and scanned the light blue, wood-panelled, two-story house. It made her think of a down-on-his-luck gentleman who once had a formal, well-kept appearance but had begun to neglect himself in recent times. The lawn was overgrown and scabby. The paint on the house ran in peeling streaks. Some shingles were on permanent leave. Every single window was closed and had the shades drawn. Not very inviting.

Carrying a quart of milk in one hand, Haley walked up to the weathered white door and tentatively knocked. From the front step, she could hear a baby crying.

The door opened a crack, and Aaron's thin face appeared. He looked up and down the street before letting Haley slip inside. In his arms he cradled a red-faced, howling baby that wore only a onesie and a poorly wrapped green blanket.

Aaron was almost as unpresentable. His dark locks looked scattered and battle-weary. He wore stained blue jeans that were faded to the bone in places, and he wore a gray hand-me-down "Bristol Pirates" T-shirt bearing the logo of a Virginia baseball league. In fact, he looked like he was wearing the same clothes he had slept in and had done little to improve his appearance since waking up.

Immediately upon entering the house, Haley felt overwhelmed by the smell of cigarette smoke. The meagerly furnished living room seemed almost hazy with stagnant smoke, or maybe she only imagined it because of the heavy smell. Newspapers and dishes, some broken, crowded the kitchen table around the corner. Haley spotted the neck of a bottle that had clearly been hastily hidden under the couch. There was nothing particularly welcoming or homey about the dimly-lit, trash-strewn Hotchner home. Aaron provided the only positive presence.

"Sorry for the mess..." Aaron started to say.

Haley held up a hand. "Don't worry about it. How is Sean doing?"

"Forehead feels hot. He won't stop crying and I couldn't find anything to feed him."

"May I take him?" Haley set down the milk bottle on a lamp table by the couch.

"Sure." Aaron handed off the baby and knelt to pick up the blanket that slipped to the floor.

"He doesn't need that," said Haley as she rocked Sean in her arms. "We need to cool him off."

"How?"

"A lukewarm bath would work great. Can you start the water somewhere?"

"In here." Aaron hurried into the kitchen, and Haley cautiously followed.

He stopped suddenly in front of her and held up a hand. "Let me get this glass off the floor," he said, and he grabbed a dustpan from a nail on the wall. Not until he mentioned it did Haley notice the curved shards and aluminum vodka bottle cap shining on the tile.

Once Aaron had swept up the mess, he started moving crusty dishes from the sink to the counter. Haley hung back, slightly shocked at just how bad the disarray was. While she waited, she used her handkerchief to wipe up the nonstop river of phlegm collecting on Sean's chin and dripping down his front.

With the sink emptied, Aaron crammed a plug into the drain and cranked on the tap. "Have you ever done this before?" he asked.

"Only with puppies."

Haley held Sean while Aaron quickly undressed him. Then she tested the water in the sink before lowering the baby's tiny, overheated body into it. At first Sean screamed even more, but after a short moment, he calmed down and began splashing a little.

Aaron breathed a sigh of relief as Haley tenderly dabbed the baby's skin with a wet rag. Sean's temperature had already fallen a notch.

Haley enjoyed bathing the baby and tickling his toes. He stared bewildered at her face, unused to the attention. "Your brother's adorable," said Haley

"Yes, sometimes."

"Could you get some milk ready for him while we finish up?"

"I think so." Aaron poured a large amount of milk into a baby bottle, and then proceeded to screw the lid on. "It's ready."

"What? No, it isn't. You didn't warm it."

"Warm it?"

"Honestly, Aaron. He is only a baby."

Following her instructions, Aaron warmed the milk and tested a drop on his wrist. "I'm not very good at working with babies," he admitted. "Sean is the only one I've ever known."

"Well, that's more experience than some people get." Haley dried Sean off with a hand towel and redressed him. Sean seemed very curious about the new person in his house and kept fingering Haley's face.

The teenagers and the baby soon settled onto the couch. Aaron wanted to try feeding the baby, but Sean squirmed and fussed on his lap. Haley watched and offered advice until Aaron managed to get the baby to drink some milk. Sean relaxed in his arms and sucked contentedly while Aaron grinned.

Finally they could converse in peace. "So how are you today?" asked Haley.

"Frazzled, until you came by. How about you?"

"Worried, until you called. I'm glad you let me visit."

Aaron tilted the bottom of the bottle upward as Sean drained the milk. "You should probably go now," he said softly.

"But I just got here! I can't let you boys spend your Saturday alone."

"For your own good, you should head out soon."

Haley didn't see the need for all that concern, but she shrugged it off. "Okay. I'll leave very soon." She wasn't sure if now was a good time to bring up math.

"Hey, did I tell you who I met at your dad's store?" Aaron said suddenly.

"The pig farmer with one leg?"

"After that. I met two bona fide FBI agents." Aaron seemed abnormally thrilled about it.

"Oh really? What did they want?"

"They're in town investigating... a crime."

Haley's ears perked up. "What crime?"

"Just a murder." His sudden lack of detail confused her. "But anyway, they were real nice and told me to call if I had any questions."

"That's pretty exciting," Haley said, thought she didn't see the thrill in it.

"I know! I wish you were there."

"Need some help with that?"

Sean had finished the milk, and Aaron tried to balance the baby while putting the bottle down. He handed her the bottle. "Thanks. Now what?"

"Now you burp him."

Aaron's expression said plenty. "Here, you show me."

Haley took the baby and patted his back. Sean spat up a little on her shoulder.

Aaron rushed to wipe the dab of white from Haley's sleeve. "I think he likes you."

"I like him." Haley smiled and held Sean on her knee. "I hope he grows up to be just like his brother."

"I want to check his temperature again." Aaron took the baby back and felt his forehead.

"Well?"

"Cooler, but he's still warm."

"He should be warm."

"Yeah, he's extra warm."

"Do you have a thermometer?"

Sean couldn't care less. He gurgled delightedly in his brother's arms, happy to be the center of so much attention.

The sound of a car door slamming had the effect of lightning to Aaron's body—he stiffened and sat straight up, eyes wide. Haley heard keys jangling.

Suddenly Sean was in her arms and Aaron was guiding her around the couch. "You have to get down. Stay behind the couch. And, Haley, listen to me. No matter what happens, do not move or make a sound."

"Why? What's happening?"

"Promise me. You and Sean cannot make any noise."

"I... I promise."

"Good. Don't move." And with that, Aaron disappeared from her view. From where she crouched with the baby hugged to her chest, Haley could hear papers ruffling and glass clinking. It sounded like Aaron was cleaning the room.

The front door slammed, and a new pair of footsteps drew nearer to the couch. Haley expected to hear the newcomer say something, or Aaron to say hello, or _something_. She did not expect the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh with a sharp smack. Aaron made a faint groan, but his voice sounded muffled behind tightly closed lips.

There came another smack, and then another. Haley flinched at each and felt her heart going at breakneck speed. She had to take a peek, just to make sure Aaron was still okay.

Haley leaned forward and slowly peered around an armrest. What she saw surprised and horrified her. She was always under the impression Aaron's stepfather was his abuser. She never would have expected to see a woman who must have been Aaron's mother smacking him left and right. What really unsettled her was that no one said a word. And Aaron just stood there tall and upright, taking it.

Aaron's mother was a gangly, unkempt woman with stringy brown hair hanging in tangles. She had poorly applied make-up clouding her eyes in splotches, and her eyelashes appeared especially thick and fake. Buried between the hedges of mascara were two very bloodshot eyes. She wore tight jeans and a yellowish sweater and a pair of thick-toed leather shoes. She didn't look at all like an orderly or well-kept mother. In fact, she would have scared Haley if she were her mother.

Just as suddenly as she started, Mrs. Hotchner stopped hitting Aaron. She just stood there breathing hard and swaying a little, from alcohol no doubt.

"After all the misery and heartache you've caused," she said in a low growl, "you have the guts to stand in front of me? You still don't respect me?"

Aaron said nothing. With a barely perceptible dip of his chin, he glanced back at the couch. Haley quickly pulled back. A second later, she peeked out again, this time to see Aaron silently getting down on his knees. She wanted to help him. She wanted to scream at that woman and help Aaron escape the house. But she couldn't move. Not yet.

Her stomach was twisting into unpleasant knots. She wanted to throw up as she watched Mrs. Hotchner pull an extension cord from the wall behind a lamp table and loop it in half. With his back to the couch, Aaron's face remained hidden, but Haley could see his hands curling into fists at his sides.

"Why are you still here while your father is gone?" his mother said in a pleading tone. "Why do you insult me every single day by looking just like him?" She landed a few swift blows with the cord, and Aaron's arm came up to his face.

Haley felt bile in her throat. Her arms tightened around Sean, but he didn't make a sound.

"I spend half my days crying and my nights in agony," Mrs. Hotchner went on. "Do you know why? Because _you_ ruined my life!" The lashes increased in vigor. "Well, why don't you say something?"

Despite the taunts, Aaron still kept his mouth shut. He was building a silent shield around himself, and Haley didn't think he could be shaken.

As Mrs. Hotchner struck her son harder and faster from every angle, Haley could see no end in sight. She feared some serious damage would occur if it didn't stop soon. _I have to do something. I don't care what he said; I'm getting out there and stopping her._

As she shifted her weight to stand, Sean made a faint whimpering sound. Haley quickly withdrew and rubbed his back to calm him. She wiped his nose and rocked him gently. Perhaps it would be wiser to honor Aaron's wish. Haley would stay put, but she couldn't watch anymore. She just rocked Sean and listened tearfully to the whacks and the terrible, shaming taunts.

"This is all your fault, Aaron. How could you do this to me? Don't you love your own mother? Don't you care about how I feel? I lost my husband. What did you do about that? If not for you, he might still be here! You have destroyed our family, and you just don't care!"

Haley had to steal another glance. Aaron shook with his arms folded over his head. Angry red marks screamed across his arms and the back of his neck.

"Well, say something!" His mother struck him again, this time in the face.

Haley quickly pulled back. Her face squinted up, tears began barrelling down her cheeks, and her own nose started running. _Make it stop!_

—-

Aaron wanted the world to end that very second. A silent mantra paraded around his head: "Don't move, Haley. Stay where you are. Don't move." It was bad enough that Mother put him through this. Why did Haley have to be there too?

Worse yet, Aaron felt himself succumbing to the blame tirade. Each stinging word hit deeper than the stinging blows, and he dwelled on each one. He started to feel queasy.

His mother had accomplished her ultimate goal. The goal that went beyond transferring her own pain to her son's frail body. The goal of making him feel her own shame and worthlessness. Aaron knew his mother carried a constant burden of guilt, depression, and self-loathing. If she could cause him to feel the same way, perhaps she thought she could lessen the load in her heart. This time she succeeded more than she knew by bringing him down to such a low and vulnerable place. He felt smothered in shame and displaced guilt. Worst of all, Haley now knew how worthless and guilty he was. She would look down on him now, and high school would be just like it was before he met her.

"Well? _Well?_" Mrs. Hotchner whipped the cord across Aaron's shoulders harder than before.

Aaron almost choked on his own breath, then he spoke for the first time since his mother came home. "I'm sorry," he said so faintly he wasn't sure she heard. His voice cracked.

"I'll bet you are." His mother finally, mercifully tossed aside the cord. She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes with the back of her hand and sighed heavily. "Where's your brother?"

Aaron did not reply. He only stared at the floor and sniffled. His mother knocked the wall with her palm and staggered upstairs. Aaron remained kneeling, head bowed, gripped in fiery agony from his skin straight to his soul.

—

Haley shifted Sean to one arm, then stood and came cautiously around the couch. Her friend didn't move at the sound of her approach. Haley knelt beside him, battling with herself over what to say. Only then did she see the crinkled Polaroid Aaron held limply against his knee. Mr. Hotchner smiled up from the sepia image. Aaron's downcast eyes shone with tears.

For a minute, nobody said anything. Haley cringed at the sight of Aaron's flushed, red-streaked skin. Aaron trembled but otherwise did not move. Haley hesitated, then gently placed a hand on his quaking shoulder. They knelt like that, with Sean drooling in the crook of Haley's other arm, for another several minutes.

Finally, Aaron spoke. "I killed my father," he whispered.

Not pausing a second for the weight of the revelation to sink in, he silently took Sean from Haley's arm and carried him through the basement door. Haley was left staring after him, face streaming with tears, pondering his last statement.


	9. Chapter 9 -- The Risk

CHAPTER NINE - The Risk

—-

The thin traces of blood wouldn't wash out of his gray T-shirt. Aaron Hotchner knelt on the bathroom floor, wringing out his shirt over the nearly empty tub. It was well past midnight, and he had washed himself and then his clothes in near total silence. Wearing only his spare jeans, he quietly completed the task of draining the water and wiping up every drop and puddle he could find. He left his wet shirt draped over the edge of the tub, and, using his hands for support, got to his feet.

Every movement made his muscles twinge and ache. Aaron turned and staggered over to the sink, where he had left the contents of his pockets on the counter. A penny, a wad of notes from class, a business card, his father's photo. Aaron reached for the business card and read the number printed beneath the words "FBI Special Agent Jason Gideon." _If you could only see me now, Agent Gideon. You would never have paid me any mind._

He looked up at his pale reflection. His dark hair still lay damp and dripping in tangles that begged to be combed. Many of his earlier cuts and bruises had nearly faded to memories, but the fresh welts across his arms and scrawny torso served as reminders that the pain would always return. Aaron stopped counting his visible ribs and looked sadly up at his face. Then he glanced down at the Polaroid, then back up at himself. Jeepers. He _did_ look like Dad. Only a younger, much weaker version.

Comparing their faces, Aaron tried to come to terms with the distressing truth his mother always reminded him of: he could never live up to his father's memory. He should have died instead of his father. And he alone was the cause of his father's death.

In short, he deserved every mark, and many more to come.

Aaron tossed Agent Gideon's card into the waste basket. Agent Rossi said he was a good kid. What did he know? Hotch, he'd called Aaron. "Hotch" was a smart, unafraid, untormented young man with a full life ahead of him and who had a right to discuss criminal cases with the experts. Hotch was the bright kid Agents Rossi and Gideon thought they met. But Hotch was only a prospect, only the unattainable alter ego of a boy who would never amount to anything. He could be "Hotch" for the FBI, but at home he was only Aaron. As much as he wanted to be the likable Hotch who shook the agents' hands and accepted their praise, he knew he could never get past the confines of his fate. He had no business talking to the FBI, unless he planned to let them lock him away forever.

Aaron pulled on an oversized brown T-shirt that used to be his father's. It was his only remaining shirt that wasn't torn or bloodstained. He then stuffed his few items into his pockets and balled up his other clothes. He quietly entered the hallway and glanced across at the half-open door to his old bedroom. He hadn't stepped inside for months. It was too close to his parents' room.

Agent Rossi's Hotch wouldn't be afraid to sleep in his own room. He would be untroubled, not hiding in the basement. Hotch could face any challenge, any obstacle, any person and not be intimidated. Aaron didn't have the guts.

Weak, timid, battered, _guilty_ Aaron crept downstairs and into the basement where Sean slept in the rag bin. Aaron put his still-wet clothes into the cardboard box where he kept his few possessions, and then he spread out some rags to lie on. Riddled with guilt, he couldn't relax. He knew he didn't deserve any comfort after the agony he put his mother through. After he made Father go away and provoked Mother to anger. If everything was his fault, he should be paying for it in spades.

But what could he do now? At least the rags were uncomfortable and he felt lower than a medieval serf. Still, he felt he should be even lower. His life was despicable. He could never show his face to Haley again.

Aaron bit his knuckles to keep from crying from the pain. He finally fell into a deep sleep troubled by nightmares about his Mother's accusations.

—-

Haley Brooks had labeled only one out of ten flower diagrams. She kept glancing at the empty seat beside her. Biology was no fun without a lab partner.

All she could think about was the last time she saw Aaron. The brutal assault that she did nothing to prevent. The hurtful words he absorbed. The look of utter brokenness in his eyes. The shame alone might keep him from ever returning to school.

Haley's pencil hovered over the diagrams. The text blurred and she closed her eyes. Why didn't she do anything? She replayed the scene repeatedly in her mind, changing the parts where she had an opportunity to stand up to Mrs. Hotchner. She saw herself grabbing the cord, knocking Aaron's mother down, even standing in her way. She would have done anything differently if she had another chance.

She had never imagined the torture that went on in the Hotchner home. She simply didn't think of what Aaron faced on a daily basis. Now the image was burned in her mind. Now she felt responsible in some way. She couldn't let it happen again.

And where was he now? She felt the same anxiety that bothered her when Aaron didn't show up on time for the play. This time, she knew what his obstacle looked like. What if his mother held him back for more of her torment?

Haley barely finished a fourth of her assignment by the time the bell rang. Not thinking of biology for a second, she marched into the hallway and began looking for Aaron in all his usual places. She even knocked on the boys' locker room and called out his name, but was told to look elsewhere.

Haley's next class started, but she was walking out onto the baseball diamond. A few members of the team stood around discussing the game. She asked Jimmy if he'd seen Aaron.

"Try up there." The redhead nodded to the upper bleachers.

A lone boy sat hunched with his chin in his hands on the bench nearest the top.

Haley breathed a sharp sigh of relief. As she turned to approach the bleachers, Jimmy called after her, "He said he didn't want to talk to anybody."

"Okay." Haley climbed the steps and walked carefully out to where Aaron sat. Aaron barely glanced up out the corner of his eye, then returned his gaze to the white benches below his feet. His threadbare tan sweatshirt easily covered the worst of his wounds, but Haley could still make out some inflamed red marks on the back of his neck, his hands, and under his right eye. She sat beside him and sighed.

For several minutes, nobody said anything. Then Aaron murmured, "You shouldn't see me anymore. I'm not worth your time."

"What do you mean?"

"You heard my mom. Our family fell apart because of me, and it's always my fault she's so angry. I make everything worse. I shouldn't be alive anymore."

"So are you just going to kill yourself now or what?"

He gave her a look that neither confirmed nor denied her remark.

"Because that's the way you sound right now," Haley went on. "You're talking like the world would be better off without you."

Aaron opened his hands and then curled them closed again. "It would."

"That's just what your mother wants you to think. But why? What did you really do, not in general but specifically, that was so wrong?"

"My father shouldn't have died. I... shouldn't have made it happen."

"How did he die?"

"Heart attack at work. The stress finally got to him."

"And you think that was _your_ fault?"

Aaron bit his lip, eyes welling up. "It was."

"You personally gave him a heart attack while he was away at work?"

"You know what was the last thing he said to me? He said, 'Aaron, you and I are much too busy these days. I can't handle the stress much longer.' He was so busy because he spent all of his spare time with me."

"So you're completely responsible? Clearly his heart condition had nothing to do with it. Or even the stress of his job, which I hear can be pretty difficult by itself. But it was none of that. It was only you. Is that what you want me to believe?"

Aaron looked away, clearly annoyed. "My mom keeps telling me I should have let him get more rest. She's right. He never lay down in the afternoon because I wanted to discuss my homework with him or go for a drive to some part of town we hadn't seen yet. He never had a moment to himself to relax."

Haley really didn't know how to advise him, but she could see how he was obviously not responsible for his father's death. Why couldn't he see it? How long had his mother been literally hitting him over the head with redirected guilt? "Your dad sounded like a great man," said Haley. "I'm sure he was glad to spend all the time that he had with you."

"I should have known... the stress... with his heart..."

"Aaron, stop. There is _nothing_ you should wish to change. You have wonderful memories of your father; don't regret them. Your mother does not know how to handle her grief, so she throws it on you. Don't listen to a word that woman says. Nobody could have prevented your father's heart attack."

"My mother can't be all wrong."

"What, do you want to be found guilty?"

"I want to be certain if I'm not."

"Then listen to me: you're not."

Aaron met her gaze with teary eyes. "But I do make my mom angry. I'm guilty of that."

"That's her problem. You've done nothing wrong. What your mother does to you is wrong—evil even. But it's _not_ your fault."

"How do you know?"

"Because your worst crime last Saturday was to look after your sick brother and protect him—and me—from getting caught in the violence. If you think that's deserving of terrible pain and humiliation, maybe I _should_ rethink our friendship."

Aaron looked a little taken aback, but also slightly less depressed than before.

"Now, what I witnessed last weekend was an outrageous crime. I'm so sorry it had to happen, and that I did nothing. But now, we can't let it continue. I'm begging you, Aaron, talk to the police. They can help."

"No. If my parents know I talked, they'll hurt Sean."

Haley leaned back, scowling in frustration. She couldn't think of a way around that dilemma. "At least let me make sure you're okay."

"I don't understand you," Aaron said softly. "Why do you care about me?"

"You're my friend."

"You know how dangerous it is to be around me. Why don't you find someone else to be with? Pick any other boy. Pick Jimmy. You should be with someone who's not going to put you in danger by always being mixed up with violent people."

"I should pick who I _want_ to be with, and that's not going to be a convenient dummy."

"I'm so afraid that someday you'll get hurt by somebody who's out to get me, and I won't be able to save you."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take to be with you while I can. I'm not afraid of what anybody else might do to me."

"You're too good for me, Haley. I don't understand how I got so lucky."

"You deserve some happiness. As for the rest, all you need to know is that I love you."

Aaron shook his head and closed his eyes. He stifled a sob and turned his head away.

"Don't cry." Haley wiped a tear from his face with her thumb. Aaron met her gaze, then leaned in and gently kissed her on the lips. Haley's eyes went wide with surprise. Aaron's kiss lingered only a couple seconds, and then he sat back. Delighted, Haley leaned over and gave him a kiss in return. This one lasted a little longer.

When their lips parted, Aaron put his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder. Haley let herself melt into his embrace. She breathed in the scent of cheap bath soap in his hair and felt very peaceful being so close to him. The comfort they shared lasted the rest of the day, long after they had gone to their separate classes.

Neither could stop thinking about the kiss.


	10. Chapter 10 -- The Pledge

_**Chapter Warning: Contains implied sexual topics in conversation (not explicit or immoral, but mature themes anyway). I knew this had to be addressed eventually. Hope I handled it okay.**_

—

CHAPTER TEN - The Pledge

—-

Three tattered T-shirts, a red polo, and a couple longsleeves lay in a disorderly heap on the foot of Haley's bed. She sat crosslegged with a plaid flannel shirt in her lap, probing the tears with her fingers and measuring the length of thread she needed to close them. She found brownish bloodstains bordering the jagged edges of the fabric and frowned.

"Do you mind if I scrub this one again?" she asked.

Sitting on a folding chair beside the bed with a math notebook in his lap, Aaron looked up. "Pardon?"

"There's, uh, just some, well..." She held up the shirt for him to see.

"Oh. That won't come out. Nobody will notice if you fold the edges in."

She nodded unconvinced and began prepping her thread and needle. Just when she thought she had found and pinned all the tears, she discovered another rip in one of the sleeves.

She was happy to help Aaron mend his clothes, and she was glad he eventually accepted her offer to do so. But the task was proving more difficult than she imagined. As she located each tear and every stain in her friend's well-worn shirts, she couldn't help wondering what brutal violence and what weapon caused all the damage. She dreaded the thought of the injuries Aaron sustained beneath these tatters. Hopefully her work would restore some of his dignity.

Haley had convinced Aaron to come over with his spare shirts after his shift in Mr. Brooks' store. Her mom was on a grocery errand, and Jessica was absorbed in a soap opera downstairs. Haley explained substitution equations and graphing hyperbolas while Aaron made nervous scribbles in his notebook. The spine of his math book was broken and several pages were torn or missing, but they made do until Aaron had a basic enough understanding of the concepts to begin computing on his own. Then Haley turned to shirt mending.

Lucky girl had a radio in her room. The Rolling Stones' "Gimme Shelter" softly set the tone for a laid-back afternoon. Both teenagers felt so relieved to relax.

Haley found another tear and sighed. "Why don't we just get you some new shirts?"

Aaron shook his head, which had been bobbing to the music as he bent over his book. "Maybe when I've saved up enough."

He wouldn't accept charity from her. Fine. She could work with what they had.

"Did I tell you there was a visiting student in my english class?" asked Haley.

"Nope."

"Yeah, some kid from Las Vegas is on a trip with his mother and is taking part in a couple classes here. He'll only be in town for a week though, thank goodness."

"What, is he some kind of bully?"

"No, he's just obnoxious to no end. He can't be older than twelve, and he quotes statistics like a second language. Honestly, I think he's just a show-off."

"Twelve? Is he a genius or something?"

"Whatever you want to call it. He started telling me about the economic outcome of the Franco-Prussian War in painful detail, and I had to find an excuse to change seats. Can't wait till he goes back home."

"I'll bet. Sounds like he would be a nightmare to work with."

"Definitely." Haley began tying the string at the end of her stitches. "Did anything interesting happen in your classes?"

"I learned about the climate in South Africa."

"Fun."

Haley started darning another tear. There was something else, an elephant in the room actually, that she wanted to talk about. She wondered if Aaron was avoiding it as much as she was.

"So, um, Jimmy asked if we're dating," said Haley tentatively after a few awkward minutes.

"He saw us, didn't he."

"Yep. Along with half the team."

"Ah, gee." Aaron raised a page in front of his face and studied it closely.

Haley pulled her thread taut and took a deep breath. "I keep thinking about that kiss, Aaron. Did you know I've never kissed a boy before?"

He blushed deeply and pretended to be absorbed in his math homework. "I've... uh, never kissed a girl before." One finger tugged at the collar of his tan sweatshirt.

"Jimmy also asked how many times we've... well, done _it_."

"You mean...?" Aaron peered over his page.

"Yeah, I mean _it_."

"As in, _it_?"

"I think the term he used was, 'hitting a home run.'"

Aaron's eyes could not get wider or his face more discolored.

Haley shrugged a little as if to deflect his stare. "Well, haven't you heard the talk?"

"What... talk?"

"You know. The kids who nudge me in the hallway and ask how good you are. The kids who catcall or tease about us hooking up. Even the names they call us. It's all over the school."

Aaron looked on the verge of genuine mortification. "I didn't know. I guess I don't pay much attention."

"Word spreads fast. There's no privacy when you're sitting in a tree."

"What do you say to them?"

"I just said we were friends. Just friends. Some of them have started placing bets for how soon we... you know what."

Aaron leaned back and sighed, letting his book and papers rest in his lap. "I had no idea that was going on. I hope they're not bothering you."

"Not really, but... well, it is getting harder to know what to say. I want to make them stop, whatever it takes."

Aaron furrowed his brow at her. "What do you mean? You want to do _it_?"

"Well, I dunno." Haley suddenly felt extremely awkward. "Every couple I know is doing it. Why, Sarah and Leonard talk about it everyday. It's hard to keep telling everyone we haven't done it yet."

Aaron looked extraordinarily uncomfortable. "That's just it. Everybody's doing it with everybody. Where's the respectful, long-term intimacy like my dad had with my mom before he died?" He paused, and Haley wondered for a second if he actually wanted an answer to that. But then he spoke again: "Sure, everybody's doing it, but everybody's breaking up just as quick. And when they do, they've already given up a part of themselves that they can never get back."

"What, you think we're gonna break up?"

"No, but I want our relationship to be special and pure. I'll bet we'll get to know each other better than Sarah and Leonard know each other."

Haley smiled, knowing in her heart that he was right. Waiting was not only the moral but the logical thing to do.

Aaron seemed briefly lost in thought as he gazed grimly at the bed. "You know what I think of when I see the other kids getting lost in a pursuit of passion?" he asked quietly.

"No, what?"

"I think of my stepfather. He doesn't care who gets affected or hurt in the long run. He's just out to please himself from one affair to the next. Maybe he never learned to control his urges as a teenager."

Haley watched him closely. He looked genuinely upset.

Then Aaron looked up at her with a look of pure affection and concern. "I want our relationship to be different. I want to live like my father lived. Loving, honest, respectful. And patient."

Haley felt a little ashamed and humbled in the presence of her friend. "Aaron Hotchner," she said, voice choking. "You really are something special."

Aaron looked down and shook his head. "I just think you're worth waiting for."

Haley didn't know what to say to that. She stared at him in amazement and delight. "Really?" she finally whispered.

"Yeah. And someday I want to marry you."

Haley dropped what she was doing, shirt, needle, and all, and climbed off the bed. Aaron set his homework aside and stood in front of her.

Haley took both his hands in both of hers. "I want to marry you someday too. I want to promise myself to you now."

They were only in high school. They both realized anything could change. But in that moment, all they saw was each other and the future they could have together if nothing got in their way.

"I have an idea." Haley suddenly turned around and cut several lengths of string from the spools on her bed. She wound the strands together and tied them in a loop. "Can I have your finger?" Aaron lifted his hand, and Haley slipped the loop onto his finger.

Catching on, Aaron took some more string and did the same for Haley. Then they held hands again.

"Haley Brooks, I pledge my love and purity to you and hope to take you as my bride when the time is right."

Haley's grip tightened. "Aaron Hotchner, I pledge my love and purity to you, and I sure as daylight plan to take you as my husband when the chance comes."

"You mean that?" Aaron smiled, leaning closer.

Haley laughed. "Yeah, I do."

Aaron laughed his funny laugh and put one arm around her. "You wanna dance?"

Now this was Haley's forte. She held his hand and his shoulder and guided him in sweeping, buoyant swing steps. Aaron went along as well as he could and only once misstepped. They twirled and swayed and laughed with the whole world around them forgotten.

"She loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah!" sang the Beatles. Though at first resistant, Haley now had a new attitude about their music. Aaron was right—the band members themselves were off-the-walls weird, but they could sure could whip up a hotdoggin' tune to dance to.

She never wanted to let go of her partner. What could possibly drive them apart?

—-

_**Featured Songs**_

"_**Gimme Shelter" by the Rolling Stones: **__** watch?v=WJDnJ0vXUgw**_

"_**She Loves You" by the Beatles: **__** watch?v=OpvP4eHV4eA**_


	11. Chapter 11 -- A Shared Secret

CHAPTER ELEVEN - A Shared Secret

—-

While Haley wiped tables and Aaron shined shoes, they listened to the best insider tales of deceitful neighbors, the Vietnam War, the "crackpot" economy, and police bulletin top picks.

All types of people came in and out, everybody from an Army veteran turned mailman to a leftover hippie turned literacy activist. Customers milled about in a colorful display of fashion trends—70's rock star hair in one corner, a 60's jacket in another, 40's knickers at the bar.

Mr. Brooks threw out a young man with a reefer pipe and a perm, and then served an extra drink to the airman with a scarred ear and a verbal autobiography in the making. The indignant stoner lurked for awhile, threatening to sue for discrimination, but one word from the veteran at the bar sent him running with his pipe hugged to his chest.

One story led to another, one bite of gossip got chewed across the room in a hurry, and one generation mingled discordantly with the next. It was a hotspot for everything juicy and uniquely cultural in town.

Aaron enjoyed eavesdropping and people-watching so much, he wished he had a longer shift. But when his two hours finished, he reluctantly clocked out and accepted his wages from the register. He almost wished the FBI agents would show up again. There was so much more to talk about. Glancing back longingly at the argument that was just heating up between a pilot and a marine, Aaron followed Haley out to the truck. She usually drove him to his street, then let him walk the last block home. The carefree drive marked the last moment of safety in his day.

A new song by Gowan, called "A Criminal Mind," now played on the radio. Curious, Haley turned the volume up a notch and listened to the woeful chorus about one man's unchangeable criminal nature.

"This song is so depressing," she decided.

Aaron shook his head. "I think it's kind of interesting. Why does he have a criminal mind and why can't he change it? What was his crime in the first place?"

"Of course, it is _just_ a song."

"Wow, this guy is cold," Aaron marveled. "Totally remorseless. I hope he's not loose in society."

Haley quickly reached out and changed the station. Aaron saw the trace of annoyance in her eye and decided against changing it back.

"So you have baseball practice tomorrow?" Haley asked.

"That's right."

"I'll be there. Knock them out."

"Sure."

When the truck reached the curb, Aaron took his time getting out. Finally he stood by the side of the street, looking up sadly at his friend.

"Be safe," said Haley. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Aaron nodded, wordless. Haley drove away, and Aaron walked home all alone.

He came inside and immediately found his mother glaring at him with her hands on her hips. He glanced at the clock over the couch just to verify that was home no later than usual.

But not to his mother. "I thought you ran away," she said mournfully. "What are you trying to do, give _me_ a heart attack?"

"Mom... this is the same time I come home everyday."

"I don't want to hear it. You weren't home soon enough to supplement the bills I had to pay. Where's my six dollars, you thief? Hand it over now."

Aaron reluctantly reached into his pocket, and his mother tore the money from his hand as soon as it appeared.

Before Aaron could walk away, Mother grabbed him by the neck, threw him face-first into the lamp table, and started beating him over the back with a leather strap she'd been holding at her side. She swung each blow with such force Aaron couldn't support himself anymore. He crashed to the floor and began crawling away. Mother caught his collar, slammed him sideways into the wall, and continued the flogging with all her strength.

In times like these, Aaron mentally ran away to a safe place that looked a lot like Mr. Brooks' truck. He had to imagine the cool wind on his face, the beautiful laugh at his side, and the adventure of speed that drove him from harm.

Only this time it was much harder to escape. The assault knocked the air from his lungs, and each strike felt like it was whipping right through his ribcage. Aaron hugged the wall and cried out, once again wishing he had the power to make it stop.

When his mother paused to catch her breath, Aaron scrambled halfway up to his feet and bolted unsteadily past her to the bathroom, just missing her reach as she tried to catch him again. He slammed the door shut and locked it, then pushed his full weight against it as his mother hammered on the wood and swore at the top of her lungs.

_It's not my fault. No guilt. It's not my fault._ Aaron tried desperately to remind himself of Haley's words. If he gave in to the shame that loomed over him, he might lose the strength to hold the barrier. But Haley was right. He had done nothing to deserve a regular bone-scarring scourge. His mother was in the wrong, not him.

"Charles!" he heard her scream. "Come get this bastard out of here!"

When nothing happened, she screamed again: "I know you heard me, Charles! Don't let the brat insult me like this!"

Still, no one came, and Aaron realized his bargain with his stepfather was finally paying off. Luckily for him, his mother left him alone and continued her argument with Charles in the next room.

Exhaling with relief, Aaron sank to a seated position on the floor. His back hurt so much he had to turn and lean on the door with his side. Several of Haley's stitches felt torn apart again.

He had decided not to let anyone see him cry anymore. Although he felt free from guilt, he felt the weight of injustice bringing him down. He felt sincerely wronged, humiliated, and in so much heavy pain he could hardly move. No one could see him now, so he hugged his knees and wept and prepared for a night on the cold tile.

Sometime during the night, Aaron spotted Agent Gideon's business card in the trash can and decided to take it out, just in case. Should he involve the FBI in his home life? That would probably cause more trouble than involving the police. But then, how bad could it be, _really_, if he brought the police into his life? What if he managed to do it so furtively that his parents didn't have a chance to hurt Sean before the cops showed up? Maybe it would actually work.

And then what? Would the police take his mother and stepfather away, never to be seen again? Was he ready to raise Sean alone?

Going to the police seemed more viable an option now than ever. He simply couldn't stand the thought of getting clobbered again with his wounds still so fresh. He felt weak for wanting help, but it really did hurt—oh, how it hurt! If he didn't do something soon, he might snap and hurt someone.

—-

Haley noticed Aaron's foul mood the next day and kept a cautious distance. He knew she wanted to avoid annoying him further, but he was sorry he couldn't talk to her calmly today. He could tell that she knew he had a terrible night, and she extended her patience. This time, he preferred that to her comforting him.

Haley sat on the bleachers doing homework. To say the practice went smoothly was like saying the ocean was dry. Everyone messed up and nobody could focus. It only added to Aaron's festering frustration.

He held the bat trying not to picture all the monsters in his life as the ball sailed toward him. Hearing his mother's demeaning voice in his mind, he spaced again and missed the ball.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" Jimmy, the pitcher, moaned. "Hotchner! What's distracting you?"

"Nothing," Aaron growled. But it was his third strike. He suddenly felt so upset at his mother that he hauled off and struck the wire fence behind him with the bat. The whole fence quivered, and Haley looked up in surprise.

Jimmy ran up to him. "Yo, do you have a problem?"

The bat sank to the ground and Aaron looked down. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm just frustrated."

"Yeah, we all are. So let's get this over with and go home to recharge."

Aaron nodded, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. His sudden move with the bat had worked the muscles in his wounded back, and he felt flashes of pain returning.

"Now Peter's in the outfield, and he's missing every ball we send his way," said Jimmy. "Not to mention he's missed the last _three_ practices. Would you go and find out if his head is in the game?"

Aaron wasn't in the mood to deal with a disenchanted ballplayer. He trudged into the outfield and called out the boy's name.

The minute he saw Peter, he stopped. The younger, heavier boy stood staring at the ground with one hand to the side of his head. When he glanced up, Aaron recognized the scared, distant look in his eyes.

"Is everything alright, Peter?"

Peter nodded, gaze glued to the ground.

Aaron's heart drummed. A warning bell was screaming in his mind. He felt a silent understanding with the young boy, but he had to confirm his suspicion. "Is there something you need to talk about?"

"What d'ya mean?"

Aaron spotted the dark circles under Peter's eyes. "Who's hurting you, Peter?"

"Nobody." Peter leaned his head harder into his hand.

"They told you not to tell, didn't they? They make threats and make you feel like you're alone. Even when you're not at home, you're haunted by them."

Tears filled Peter's eyes.

"But they're wrong. You don't deserve to be hurt. You can trust me with your secret."

Peter looked up slowly. His lip quivered and breath came unsteadily. "I need help," he whispered. Then he dropped his hand from his head.

First Aaron noticed the scarlet lining covering the boy's hand. Then he looked up and saw a tangle of red staining Peter's curly dark hair.

Aaron touched the injury and found the blood to be fresh. "What happened?"

"I made a mistake and he corrected me. But it won't stop bleeding!"

"Who did this?"

"My uncle. He says I do something wrong every day."

"Well, _he_ certainly does. Peter, you might need to lie down. I'll get help."

"No, don't get..." Peter's eyes fluttered. His knees wobbled.

Aaron caught the boy and eased him to a seat on the ground. "Haley!" he hollered the first name that came to mind. Haley and Jimmy both took off in his direction.

"How long has he been hurting you?" Aaron asked.

"Several months. I don't know."

"I'm so sorry." Now Aaron could see the bruises shadowing Peter's arms. "I should have done something sooner."

"You never see me except for baseball practice. You couldn't have known."

Jimmy got there first with Haley close behind. They dropped to their knees on either side of Peter and started asking confused and unhelpful questions.

"Stay with him," ordered Aaron. "I'm calling an ambulance."

Peter moaned and closed his eyes.

Aaron ran like an olympian to the school payphone in the first hallway. Diving between two clusters of students, he caught himself on the receiver, tearing it off the hook at the same time. His thumb hammered out three digits: 9-1-1.

"I'm at school. A student was beaten by his uncle and has a head injury."

"What is your location?"

Aaron gave the school's address. "Get over here, now! He's been waiting a few months for help!"

He then left the phone dangling by its cord and ran back to the field.

Minutes later, an ambulance with red and blue lights sweeping off the fence and grass roared into the outfield. To medics rushed to the small group of students and began examining Peter. When they failed to get any answers from the boy, they directed their questions to the quickly increasing group of students around him. Aaron answered every question and ensured that Peter was getting the best care possible. One medic checked Peter's pupils with a penlight while the other applied gauze to his head injury. Peter grew paler and less upright as time went on.

"Don't worry, Peter," Aaron assured him. "You're safe now. These people will help you."

"I'm scared, Aaron."

"Hold my hand." Aaron encased Peter's chubby hand in his firm grip. He held on until the medics moved Peter to a stretcher and wheeled him into the back of the vehicle.

"He can't hurt you anymore," said Aaron. "Tell the doctor everything."

"I'm so scared," were the last words he heard before the ambulance doors slammed.

Aaron was left staring after the white, box-like vehicle with whirring lights as it pulled out of the field and sped down the road. Students chattered and whispered with excitement. The concern Aaron felt for his friend was getting rapidly consumed by the hidden rage that he wrestled with all day.

"I'm glad you checked on him," said Jimmy at his side. "I would have simply yelled at him to pay attention."

"I'll bet you would have."

"Aaron? Are you okay?" Haley asked.

He shot her a glare, something he had never done before. It wasn't meant for her, but at this point he could not control his anger. "Do I look okay?"

Before anyone could stop him, he marched from the field and into the school, feeling so angry he saw red highlights everywhere. He neared the door marked "teacher lounge" and stormed inside without knocking.

Five or six teachers relaxed at the table, on the sofa, or at the counter getting coffee. Conversation died and they all looked up at the fiercely glaring intruder.

"Does anybody know Peter Claybert?" Aaron asked in a louder voice than he intended.

After a brief moment of surprise, the gym teacher, Mr. Marek, volunteered a response. "Yes, he's in my class. He's in most of our classes. What's the matter?"

"What's the matter? If you won't open your eyes, open your ears, and I'll _tell_ you what's the matter!"

Mrs. Gillansy, the math teacher, quickly stood and stepped closer. "Calm down, Hotchner. Why don't you have a seat?"

"I'm not going to sit for this. I want to see all your eyes, see if you ever use them. Peter's in all your classes! Do you even see him? Or is he just another report card who makes your math lectures look bad?"

Mrs. Gillansy exchanged a glance with another teacher. Her stare conveyed an offended air. "Did something happen, Hotchner?"

"You wouldn't know, cuz you don't pay attention! Peter just got taken to the hospital. His uncle beats him every day, and this time he was about to pass out from a head injury."

The history teacher gasped and put a hand to her mouth. "Good gracious! I'm glad he's going to the hospital."

"He could have gone sooner!" Aaron yelled, stare intensifying. "Don't you see him come in here every single day and sit there carrying all the signs of his secret burden? Don't you see the bruises? Don't you notice the way his behavior changes unpredictably, or the way he flinches when classmates raise their hands? I know he does. And I know you've seen. Some lousy excuse for a teacher you are, ma'am. And you, sir. And the rest of you."

Nobody said a word. They stared back, speechless. A few looked down.

Aaron fought tears as he vented the last of his anger. "He lives in fear. Do you know what it's like to be afraid to get up in the morning, or afraid to turn on a light in the kitchen? Afraid to even get some cereal for breakfast? Peter was suffering, and your classrooms should have been his safe haven. He never had anyone to go to, because nobody noticed. And now it might be too late."

A few teachers tried to speak, but no words came. They shifted in their chairs, adjusted glasses, cleared throats. Guilty.

Mrs. Gillansy came over and put a hand on Aaron's shoulder. Aaron flinched and pulled away. He seized the doorknob. "Well, it's a real shame your students don't matter to you. Or what are you _afraid_ of?"

"Aaron..." the math teacher tried to reason with him.

Aaron shook his head and fled the room. He ducked into an empty classroom and collapsed in the shadowy corner behind the teacher's desk. Emotionally spent, he buried his face in his arms. He worried about Peter and wished someone had noticed his dilemma sooner. Despite his best efforts, he already knew with complete certainty that those teachers were just as blind as they were before. His own scars and bruises remained invisible.

—-

_**Footnote #1: For the record, I do not have anything against schoolteachers. I do not mean to generalize or demean anyone in this field. However, I am highly upset at those teachers who do not advocate for children as they should, so it is that frustration which underlines this chapter. In addition, when this story takes place, people in general were not so aware of child abuse and were less likely to do anything about it. In general. Anyway, I hope you are not offended by my portrayal of the teachers in this story. I know many quite excellent teachers.**_

_**Footnote #2: I know that Gowan's song "A Criminal Mind" is a small anachronism (I think it was written a couple years after this story takes place) but naturally I had to include it. It's kind of an amusing song.**_


	12. Chapter 12 -- The Right to Remain Silent

_**Thanks for your patience, everybody!**_

CHAPTER TWELVE - The Right to Remain Silent

—-

"I think I'll just not go home today," Aaron announced halfway to his neighborhood.

"What do you mean?" asked Haley as she carefully guided the steering wheel. "Where will you go?"

"I'll spend some time with you. We can do whatever."

"Won't your... your mother notice if you're out late?"

"As far as I'm concerned, she no longer has any sense of time. She wouldn't care. And maybe I could come back after they're asleep."

"You sure about this?"

"Yeah, of course! Take this left here."

Haley swerved the truck in the opposite direction of her friend's home. Aaron let out a short, light laugh—the release of a flood of tension. "Let's go faster!" he urged.

"I hope this isn't going to get you into trouble." Haley leveled the accelerator, looking thrilled but slightly apprehensive about their escapade.

"What I do or don't do has no bearing on how they treat me. It's always the same. Now let's find something exciting to do."

First they simply drove aimlessly around neighborhoods, talking all the while about everything and nothing. Then they went on to the city streets and drove slowly past stores and pedestrians. They talked briefly about Peter, who was reportedly still in critical condition in the hospital. Though he didn't mention it, in the back of his mind Aaron wondered when he would enter his own violence-induced coma. This drive with Haley was his way of delaying the inevitable.

They decided to park in front of an antique shop and then wandered through the store commenting on every item but buying nothing. They walked next door to the record store and got deeply engaged in conversations about music. Again, they bought nothing.

After that, Aaron pointed out a tiny cinema across the street and suggested they sneak in. Though Haley hesitated and brought up all the legal implications, she quickly gave in and followed him around to the alley. Aaron felt especially impulsive and lawless today. He knew he could do whatever he wanted and not get in anymore trouble than if he had simply walked home. So why shouldn't he take advantage of that?

By the time they reached the back door, Haley changed her mind. The only movie playing was a _Rocky_ sequel, and she didn't like violence. That was okay with Aaron. He didn't care about the movie; he just wanted to spend time with her and maybe get away with doing something he wouldn't normally do. He now had a rebellious hunger to satisfy.

Determined to fill his evening with something just as adventurous, Aaron led Haley down the alley in search of an intriguing distraction. They passed metal trash cans, some spilling foul garbage across their path, and hurried under fire escapes that clung to sooty brick walls. Haley seemed to be getting increasingly nervous, but Aaron had fallen too deeply into the search for adventure to turn back now.

When they reached the end of the line of buildings, they crossed the street to a more wooded area. A dirt road twisted through the tall, half-bare trees. Orange and red leaves screened the dirt and rustled continuously as the teenagers ran.

"Aaron!" Haley panted behind him. "Do you have any idea where we're going?"

"Anywhere! Come on, let's find a cave or something."

"I'd love to, but I need to get back home soon."

"It's just one evening. Just one day to ourselves."

"Doing what, exactly?"

Aaron came to a stop and held out a hand to steady himself on an aspen. He had reached a small clearing where a faded red farmhouse sat glumly among the overgrown foliage. A tiny square barn, big enough for only one cow, stood a few feet away. Both structures, as well as parts of the clearing, were strung up with yellow tape. Haley came up beside Aaron and tried to comprehend his intense stare.

"Aaron?"

"Shhh."

"Are we in somebody's yard?"

"That..." He remembered a picture from the newspaper. "That is the scene of the murder."

Haley took a sharp breath. "You mean..."

Aaron stepped forward, intrigued. "That's where it happened. A man and his wife, both killed on this site."

"Interesting. Let's go home."

He remembered her reaction to a mere frog getting slain. "You don't have to see it, but I want to get a quick look."

"Aaron, someone could be here!"

Aaron scanned the woods in every direction and spotted the slivers of another house behind layers of trees. Apart from that, the forest appeared still and unoccupied. "I'll be careful."

"What if the bodies are still there? What if the killer returns?"

"Don't worry. The police have removed the bodies. If I see anyone, I'll get right out."

Haley caught his hand as he started walking away. "Why don't we go back to the cinema. I wouldn't mind seeing _Rocky III_ with you if it means we stay away from here."

Aaron did want Haley to be happy, but he was having immense trouble resisting the urge to explore an actual crime scene. FBI Agents Gideon and Rossi had probably been to this very location and gotten a firsthand look around. Gideon even encouraged Aaron to keep up with the case. Homicide rarely ever happened in this town. Aaron had to know more, and he couldn't possibly walk away from a rare opportunity such as this one.

He took Haley's hands and faced her. "I know you don't like this sort of thing, but I can't help wanting to know more. I'll only look for a few minutes, and then we can do whatever you want. Please understand."

"I would think you'd want to get _away_ from anything associated with violence!" Haley said. "I don't want to look at some dumb crime scene! You'll get in trouble, Aaron."

"I'll only be a second. Don't come after me. I know you're bothered by this stuff."

"Yeah, you're right. _I_ don't have a morbid fascination with killers. But I'm more concerned about this yellow tape!"

"Wait for me here." Aaron could not be swayed. He left his friend at the treeline and crept up to the farmhouse.

"Aaron!" Haley's call sounded like a strained whisper.

He kept going, hoping she would forgive him later. The tall grass shivered in the autumn wind as he stepped purposely around twigs and leaves. Yellow tape screamed "CRIME SCENE — DO NOT CROSS" every few feet from where it spanned the house's yard. Aaron ducked under the tape, glancing every which way. A few pieces of trash, mostly wet paper scraps and a plastic bag, skittered through the grass. An empty Coke bottle settled on the front step of the curtilage, and the neck regularly swiveled in the breeze and knocked against the bottom of the screen door frame.

Aaron passed the front door and peered in the six-panel window at its right. He could see a simple country kitchen barely illuminated through the dark window. Three sets of dishes sat long neglected on the table. Numbered crime scene markers perched on the table, on the chairs, and all throughout the room. Aaron saw the thin lines of tape outlining where the bodies had been found in two chairs. Two markers pointed out the trails of brown blood arching across the wood floor, one beside each chair.

As he stared, he could envision Mr. and Mrs. Archer—black-and-white newspaper faces livening with color in his imagination—sitting across from each other as they prepared to eat. He could see the surprise and horror on their faces as their assailant somehow subdued them. He could see every sweep of the knife that opened each victim's throat. Streams of blood dashed across the floor. The knife glimmered. And what expression did the killer make? Did he gloat over his victims? Was he angry or merely evil?

The initial disgust Aaron felt became mixed with an odd sense of intrigue. He had to know more. Why did somebody kill two people, and why in this exact fashion?

Aaron walked slowly along the wood siding. He found another, smaller window around the corner. From this angle, he saw how very tidy the room appeared. There was no sign of a struggle. He tried the window only to find it locked. He had expected to find broken glass on the scene, or some other sign of forced entry. He continued around the house, trying every window and both of the doors. Even the cellar door was locked. Every room, including two bedrooms, looked perfectly put together from his window view. No glass, no destruction or mess of any sort.

Aaron came back to the front window and stared at the table. Three sets of dishes, perfectly clean. No break-in. Two bedrooms, one with a queen-sized bed, both looking lived in.

The Archers must have known the killer quite closely! But were they really related to the suspect, the man who broke out of jail over a month ago? Did he live with them?

"Aaron!" Haley's strained call pulled him from his revelation.

Before he could look around, Aaron heard the sound of a car pulling up. His pulse spiked and he turned to see a police car with flashing lights but no siren come to a stop in front of the tiny barn. Aaron paled and glanced in Haley's direction from the corner of his eye. She peered around a tree, eyes wide. Aaron made a faint motion with his hand to urge her out of sight.

A blond policeman emerged from the driver's side and put his hand on his gun. Another cop, this one with a spare winter tire sagging over his waistline, came around the car scratching his neck and eying Aaron like a hound over a trapped rabbit.

"Let me see your hands," ordered the first officer.

Aaron slowly raised his hands to the level of his ears. His heart pounded nervous, icy blood through his trembling muscles. If his mother found out...

"Neighbor called, said they saw some kid trespassing on the Archer's place," said the overweight officer. He nodded in the direction of the house that was half concealed by a distance of trees.

"So what are you up to?" asked the other cop.

"I... I only came to look around," said Aaron. "Nothing more, honest."

"Do you see that tape?"

"Yes, sir. My mistake, sir."

"Put your hands on your head and face the wall."

Still shaking, Aaron complied, and he felt a strong hand grip his wrist to pull it down into a handcuff. His second arm was brought down a little too swiftly, pulling his shoulder muscle where a recent wound still stung. Aaron cried out unexpectedly and yanked away. The officer seized his arm and jerked it back; Aaron yelped and pulled away again.

This time when the officer grabbed his shoulder, his rough motion combined with Aaron's forceful yank away caused the shirt to tear in the officer's grip. For a few seconds, there was silence, then the cop called to his partner. "Hey. Come look at this kid!"

His partner looked, then leaned down to Aaron's eye level. "Do you need medical attention?"

Aaron shook his head.

"Alright. Then settle down and wear these cuffs. It's for your own good."

On top of getting caught, his secret was out, and now the police knew he was getting battered. Aaron didn't have anything else to say. He would let the evidence speak for itself.

"You have the right to remain silent..."

All he could do now what pray that his parents would not hurt Sean when they found out. As long as they didn't find out, this whole arrest might work to his advantage.

He glanced surreptitiously to the side, where Haley still hid behind a tree. Her eyes remained wide and she seemed conflicted over what to do. Aaron gave a small shake of the head, and she stepped out of sight.

Hopefully they could smooth things out during jail visitation hours.


	13. Chapter 13 -- My Son the Juvie

CHAPTER THIRTEEN - My Son the Juvie

—

The phone call made her mind go numb and her hands feel cold and fizzy. She stood leaning against the kitchen counter, trying to breathe steady, holding her head for several minutes after the call completed. What could this mean?

"_Your son has been arrested."_

The words batted around her head, teased her thoughts, choked her calm. She had gone into a daze and automatically agreed to come to the station in thirty minutes. She didn't know if she could collect herself in time. She did know she had to continue resisting the urge to down an entire bottle of vodka.

Why did the news bother her so much? Didn't she know Aaron was good for nothing? She had tried, tried ever so hard to knock some sense of respect and character into the boy once she knew he was incorrigible. She felt it was her duty to her late husband to hold the boy accountable for the love taken from her life. She was responsible for correcting him and keeping him from steering into further destruction. Now had she failed him somehow? Was it her fault Aaron had collided head-on with the law?

No, it couldn't be her fault. She was a good mother. She had to be, or what other purpose did she serve? No, this was all Aaron's fault, and he alone should feel the guilt. She couldn't let herself get dragged down by the slimy feelings of inadequacy.

Once she had fully shifted the guilt to the responsible party, Mrs. Hotchner thought of another dilemma. What if Aaron told lies to the police, spinning pitiful yarns to gain their sympathy? Would he try to implicate her and Charles as the root of his problem? Would he point to their strict parenting as some sort of... abuse?

Mrs. Hotchner's hand went over her heart and she took a deep breath. Oh, no. Surely she could not be accused of _abusing_ her dear husband's only child. That simply wasn't true. Aaron required a lot of handling, to be sure, and maybe occasionally... once in a while... she got a little out of control in her handling. But she didn't hurt him permanently, she didn't disfigure or disable him. It just wasn't easy getting through Aaron's stubborn outer shell. _The police must understand, some kids require extra force. If Aaron dares to tell them otherwise, well, he'll pay for that._

_Oh, Aaron. Don't you know I love you? You wouldn't want to hurt me, would you?_

She glanced at the clock and decided to get ready for her visit to the station. She passed Charles, who lounged on the couch in front of the TV, as usual. The slob.

"What was that about?" drawled Charles.

"Aaron's been arrested for trespassing. I'm going down to the station to pick him up."

"Arrested?" Charles sat straight up with a growl. "What's he doing, messing with the police? You bring him right back here, and I will pound every inch of him until he's forgotten how to get up. Hurry, before he tells tales to the cops. Why, if he so much as opens his mouth, I'll break every bone—"

"Understood." Mrs. Hotchner hurried past him and trudged upstairs to change. She had been planning to bring Aaron home and thrash him into promising never to get mixed up with the law again. Now, listening to Charles' angry rant, she realized Aaron might not last a few minutes under his stepfather's rage. As much as she despised the lawless rebel he'd become, Mrs. Hotchner could not subject Aaron to a very likely death. Maybe he could serve a jail term instead.

After touching up her make up and fixing her hair, Mrs. Hotchner woke baby Sean from his nap. Sean never wore little more than a onesie, but she knew she couldn't carry him around town dressed like that. She found a dusty cardboard box on the top shelf of an upstairs closet and pried it open. Inside was a mass of old clothes for a child aged 1-10. All of Aaron's childhood clothing, still packed together in this forgotten box.

Mrs. Hotchner rummaged around for a suitable baby outfit. Memories flooded back as she recognized old shirts and tiny pants. What an innocent boy Aaron used to be. Mrs. Hotchner remembered him toddling around her legs, carrying cooking utensils and offering to help in the kitchen. He would sing the most repetitive songs, too, usually involving cheerios and "yucky, yucky celery!" Mrs. Hotchner often took the hint and geared her cooking more to his taste.

Once he climbed into her lap while she was reading, looked up with those big brown eyes, and asked, "Would you be mad if I ran away?"

She set the book aside and returned his thoughtful stare. "Where would you go?"

"I want to join a pirate crew. They have all the fun."

"Daddy and I would miss you."

"But you'd soon move on."

"Oh no, we wouldn't, Aaron. We would never forget you. In fact, we would be very upset if you ever left us."

The tyke looked down and shifted uncomfortably in her lap. "I don't want you to be sad."

"Then stay here. You're safe at home."

He had put his tiny arms around her neck. At the time, she found his hug too tight and awkward. Now she would give anything to find his innocent embrace wrapped around her. Whatever happened to youth and pure love?

Mrs. Hotchner wiped the tears from her eyes. She would have to redo her make up again. For now, she selected a blue, collared shirt and overalls, put the box back on the shelf, and returned to her room. The clothes fit Sean perfectly, and she could almost see baby Aaron fiddling with the overall straps. How he always hated new clothes.

Sean was her second chance, her fresh start. If anything should happen to him, if any of Aaron's bad influence were to rub off on him, she would feel lost and hopeless again.

With the baby and herself finally ready, Mrs. Hotchner drove to the police station. By the time she arrived, her eyes were red and cheeks flushed from crying. Perhaps now she could use that to her advantage.

Soon Mrs. Hotchner sat at the sergeant's desk with Sean cooing in her arms. She sniffled, and the sergeant offered her a Kleenex.

"Ma'am, I know this is very difficult for you. Do you understand the charges brought against your son?"

"Yes. I just never thought it would get this bad. It breaks my heart seeing him like this. He's been behaving worse and worse lately, but I still hoped he could change."

"Well, he cooperated relatively well, but he is facing up to three days in jail. Unless, of course, you would like to post bail."

"I wish I could afford to," Mrs. Hotchner sighed, wiping her eyes. "But then again, if what you say is true, it might be best for him to stay in jail until he's learned his lesson." She shook her head as more tears fell. "I feel like I've failed my baby as a mother."

The sergeant cleared his throat and adjusted his papers. "Ma'am, we noticed several marks of old injuries on the boy. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

Oh dread. Had they examined him? What kind of condition was he in, anyway? "Well, Aaron can be a troublemaker at school too," she quickly explained. "Always fighting. I don't know where he gets it."

"Some marks are more consistent with beatings."

The drop of the Kleenex. Eyes wide, jaw slack. "What—what are you implying? You think _I_ hurt him? All I ever tried to do was love him and show him what's right." Mrs. Hotchner pulled Sean into a closer embrace. "I could never hurt my babies."

"Then how did he get all those marks?"

"Most probably from school. He's such a bully, everybody wants to beat him back. I hope he learns something in jail, poor boy..." She eyed the sergeant warily. "What did he tell you?"

"Not much, actually. We asked about his scars and bruises, but he said to ask you."

Mrs. Hotchner sighed, looking away in feigned disappointment. "He's too ashamed to admit anything after all the fights he's been in. I always feared this would happen."

"Mrs. Hotchner, let me ask you a question. Do you or your partner ever hit or beat your sons?"

She looked him straight in the eye with a slightly offended gaze. She found his question very unfair and difficult. Was he trying to make her out as some sort of monster? Flatout denial would be harder to fake, but a full confession was sure to raise even more uncomfortable questions.

"Within reason, yes, I have used minimal force to get him to behave," Mrs. Hotchner said unsteadily but convincingly. "Hasn't every parent? Aaron has a most determined sense of disobedience and I can't get through to him with words alone. I'm sure you understand. But to think that I would _ever_ cause the kinds of injuries you described, to think that I made him suffer just for the heck of it—" More tears began breaking through the dam. "You are sorely mistaken, sir! I don't want to see him hurt."

"I understand." The sergeant rose to his feet. "We may consider investigating bullies at the school due to the extent of his injuries. In the meantime, thank you for coming down. Would you like to speak with your son briefly?"

Mrs. Hotchner also stood. She wiped her eyes on Sean's sleeve and lifted the baby to her shoulder. "Yes, please, Sergeant. Take me to him."

At the end of a long, dreary corridor and with the sergeant still at her side, Mrs. Hotchner looked through the metal bars. Aaron sat slightly hunched on a narrow bench against the far wall. He wore a navy blue inmate jumpsuit and nothing on his feet. His dark locks hung untidy over his forehead. And Mr. Hotchner's face, only more youthful, gazed cautiously up at her.

"Oh, Aaron!" Genuine tears tumbled down her face. "How could you do this to me?"

Aaron said nothing. The wall of bars and the sergeant's presence kept his mother from taking him by the collar and shaking an answer out of him.

"I heard you broke the law, honey. It broke my heart. What got into you?"

No answer.

"And now they're going to investigate the school for bullying! Sweetheart, why didn't you tell me you'd been fighting more? Why didn't you say you'd been hurt?"

No answer, but a slight twitch of the lips.

"I'm going home now. The sergeant says you have three days to serve. I'll see you at the end of it, and Aaron, please think about what you've done. Think about our family and the pain you put us through."

Aaron's stare carried an Arctic coldness.

"I love you, Aaron. Don't destroy yourself."

That glare unsettled, convicted her. She had to leave now.

"Don't you love me too? Won't you say something?"

It was the look of one who was betrayed by someone who should have been closest. It was a look that brought to mind all the evil in her life. She couldn't handle it anymore.

"Oh, Aaron!" Her free hand went to her eyes, and she went sobbing down the corridor. Sean began to whimper in her arm when they left Aaron's sight. Mrs. Hotchner ducked into the women's room to calm herself and try erasing the memory of Aaron's stare from her mind. She could not chase away the depth in his eyes. They forced her to brutal honesty: she _did_ hurt him, and they both knew it.

She finally pulled herself together, then went out to sign the necessary paperwork. Before she left, she turned to the guard. "Take good care of my son," she said. "See that he is warm and well-fed."

"Sure thing, ma'am."

As she left, she looked back at the station. "Stay safe, Aaron. I do love you."

It sounded real when she said it. The only problem was, she didn't know anymore if she loved him more than she hated him.


	14. Chapter 14 -- Obsession

_**Note: Everyone involved in the case, plus all the police and guards, are my original characters.**_

—

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - Obsession

—-

Haley had never before seen Aaron so excitable. He walked to and fro in the tiny cell, sharing a string of random thoughts from earlier in the day. He would sit briefly and describe some precise detail, then get up quickly and make dramatic gestures with his hands. He came close and touched her hand through the bars, then turned and explained another thought behind his erratic behavior. Oddly, the bars and locked door seemed to free him mentally more than it held him captive. Now he wanted her to understand everything from why he refused to go home to how enthralled he felt about studying the double homicide.

Haley watched him worriedly. She didn't like seeing her friend in navy blue jail garb and bare feet. Why couldn't they let him keep his shoes to cover the cigarette burns on his feet? She had seen the rough, pinkish marks on his hands occasionally but didn't care to see those he normally tried to hide. Maybe she should ask the guards to give his shoes back.

At least they hadn't taken the twisted red strand of string tied around his finger. Haley still wore her own thread ring as she gripped the bars.

For once, he didn't look fearful. His brow was not furrowed with anxiety, and he didn't twitch nervously every few minutes. He didn't act like somebody might come around the corner at any second and throw him into the wall. In this way, it was slightly easier to watch him. But she still didn't understand why he risked his freedom and safety just to look at the scene of a violent act. While she studied his unrepressed mannerisms, she wasn't really listening to what he'd been saying.

"So do you forgive me, Haley?"

Her fingers curled tighter around the bar. He must have just explained his actions or apologized or something, and she missed it. But she didn't plan to deny him any peace of mind. "Of course I forgive you. I'm just glad you didn't get in any worse trouble."

"Trouble? This is no trouble. I couldn't be happier about the outcome. I get three days to myself, away from home, and with plenty of time to figure out this case."

There he went again. The case. "Aaron, that is the job for the police. I don't think you should be getting involved anymore, especially where a dangerous killer is on the loose."

"But I'm _not_ the police, so he won't come after me." Aaron shook his head and sighed. "It's like I tried to tell you: this case, I can't explain it. It's like seeing a wounded deer run past and disappear over a ridge. I can't just stand there or walk on. I'm seized with curiosity over how it got injured and where it's going now. I have to follow it however far it's running and discover its secret. Is it running to a safe place? A place to die? Is it looking for its family? Is it simply lost and delirious? You see, I have to follow through. I have to know how the story ends. With this case, it's so intriguing and so thrown across my path, I can't ignore it. I must know where it's going."

"That doesn't make much sense."

"I know, I know. I don't understand it myself; I can't explain it. Haven't you ever seen something that made you so curious you had to follow it to the end?"

"I wouldn't follow a wounded deer. It might be dangerous."

"That was a bad illustration anyway. How about this. The killer is still out there. If I feel that I can do _anything_ whatsoever to catch him and keep him from killing again, I think I should do it. Or at least try."

"There are other people who are supposed to do that. Besides, I don't like it."

"Well, I'm sorry. I guess we're different on this."

Haley hated the friction she was feeling. She had to direct the conversation away from Aaron's budding obsession. "So what am I supposed to do while you're locked away?"

"Are you still willing to visit me?"

"Of course."

"Then could you bring me the latest issue of the newspaper? I need to see where the police are at."

Haley sighed out of frustration. "I can do that, Aaron, on one condition."

"What's that?"

"You don't talk about crime or any cases around me."

His sad brown eyes looked disappointed. "Alright. I promise."

"And Aaron?"

"Yeah?"

"I really, really miss you."

He touched her hand that squeezed the bar and leaned closer. "I miss you too." He pressed his face against the bars and kissed her forehead.

Haley gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then hurried out of the jail. She knew she shouldn't be so frustrated. They both had different interests and should be allowed to pursue them. Her main concern was his interest getting in the way of their friendship.

—-

Why couldn't she understand his interest in the case? He didn't have a problem with her interest in dancing. Was one any more harmful than the other?

It was difficult to describe how he felt being surrounded by violence on a daily basis, and how that made him want to understand other violent cases. He almost felt that it was his responsibility to stop whatever offenders he could since he was powerless to stop the ones in his own house. How could he make Haley understand that?

Aaron couldn't worry about her now. He did, after all, have a case to solve.

He began by sketching and scribbling what he already knew on the wall, using the pen he convinced the guard to give him. He knew that Mr. and Mrs. Archer had their throats slit while they sat at their kitchen table. The table was set for three, but apparently no food was served. There had been no forced entry, and the two bedrooms with accommodations for three all looked lived in.

The primary suspect was an escaped burglar named Mark Newton. There was no known relation between Newton and the victims other than his fingerprints on a kitchen chair. Aaron didn't see any motive there. He had overheard at Mr. Brooks' store that the Archers had a seventeen-year-old son named Gerald who lived with them, but he was removed from the suspect list after an interview that found neither motive nor evidence. Gerald apparently had an alibi too—a late night out with friends at a movie.

But why would the table be set for three if Gerald wasn't home? Perhaps they had a visitor. A visitor like Mark Newton. Aaron had to know what connection existed between Newton and the Archers.

Aaron fell asleep contemplating the case. In his dream, he saw a marble bathroom counter and a slowly trickling faucet. Tiny black whiskers floated in the sink, and globs of shaving cream plopped on top of the drain. He looked up and saw the face of his eleven-year-old self peering out of the mirror. At his side, Father leaned over the sink and guided a razor over his chin.

_Mr. Hotchner was explaining: "Then the defense asked me, 'How can you prove that the victim ever came into contact with the defendant before he was made a suspect?' And I had called up an expert witness to the stand. This fellow was a psychiatrist, see, and he explained how the woman who was robbed was able to point out the offender from a line up, even though she never saw his face during the crime."_

"_How could she recognize someone she'd never seen before?" Aaron asked as he handed his father a wash cloth._

"_I'm getting to that, Mr. Urgent. Apparently the robber revealed during the crime that he had been orphaned as a child. Just so happens the victim had been orphaned as a child as well. When she looked at the men in the line up, she recognized the one that endured the same loss she had gone through. She could tell just by looking at them which ones were not orphans."_

"_No way! Nobody can tell just by looking at somebody."_

"_She could, because she could recognize the same signs she carried herself. Anyway, the jury didn't buy it, but I still believe there's something to that. Do you think we can point out the people who have been through the same things we have?"_

_Aaron thought for a minute, youthful brow furrowed. "Well, I can always tell when Frank and Bobby fail a math quiz, because I... That is, I think I know what that's like."_

"_Aaron..." The razor stopped moving. "Is there something you need to tell me about?"_

_Caught, Aaron looked down. "No, well, yes... it's just the last two chapters in math have lost me."_

_The shaving resumed. "Then why don't we go over it together after supper?"_

_Aaron grinned. "I'd like that."_

_With that resolved, he stood still and kept his mouth shut as he listened to more stories of prosecutions gone wrong. In every story, he marveled at the genius behind his father's methods, though they didn't always pay off. He always wanted to know more._


	15. Chapter 15 -- Daddy's Prosecution Trick

_**Note #1: I acknowledge that the police and jail procedures, especially involving guards and visitors, are not very realistic here. Realism has been barred from this chapter.**_

_**Note #2: I hope you're up for lots of conversation. Don't worry; it'll get more exciting soon.**_

—

CHAPTER FIFTEEN — Daddy's Prosecution Trick

—-

Aaron snapped awake to the sound of keys jangling. Dusty sunlight peeked into his cell from the square-foot window near the ceiling. His back ached as he sat up—metal cot on cuts and bruises did not make for much comfort.

The guard, a short, plump man named Ernie who wore an upside-down looking mustache, gazed with wide eyes into the cell. "Look, kid, I didn't give you a pen to mark up our walls."

Aaron rubbed his head, looking from his scribbles on the brick to the guard's perplexed face. "Well, I didn't have any paper, sir."

"Reckon you're right." Ernie squinted and stroked his chin. "What're you writing about, anyway?"

"I'm studying the homicide case in town. That's what I was trying to learn more about when I got arrested."

Ernie glanced nervously in both directions. "You ain't involved, are you?"

"Oh. No, sir. I'm only trying to understand it."

"How come?"

Aaron shrugged a little. "It's _something_ to focus on. And it's really interesting."

Ernie looked both ways again. "Then I'll bet you'd be interested to know more about the interview with Gerald Archer, son of the victims."

Aaron perked up. "I'm listening."

"Now, for obvious reasons, I'm not supposed to tell you about this stuff. I was only a guard in the room, and I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong with the fellow."

"Go on."

"Eager kid." Ernie leaned close to the bars, still keeping a wary eye out. "So the cops have Gerald in a room, you see, and they're asking all about his relationship with his parents. Gerald says they get on just fine and that he misses them, but he doesn't show any sadness. Looks down once or twice, but now tears, no nothing. When they ask him how he feels about their murder, he says he's still in shock. But I couldn't overlook his lack of emotions. He can't be that shocked _still_, now can he?"

"I don't know," said Aaron, hoping Ernie had more interesting information to share. "It's only been a couple weeks."

"Yeah, a couple weeks, and he's still shell-shocked out of all emotions!"

"What else did they say?"

"Nothing much, really. Gerald said he loved his folks and would never hurt them. Then he said he'd been to a movie that night, and he had five friends to back up the story."

"What movie?"

"_Rocky III_, premier night, he said. Been meaning to see that one myself if I ever get time enough off."

Aaron's brow knitted, and a smile teased the corner of his lips. "But that's impossible," he muttered. "_Rocky III_ premiered two days after the murder. I know because I saw the date at the cinema yesterday." As the realization sunk in, he contained his surprise and gave Ernie a straight face. "When was he interviewed?"

"They meant to interview him long before they actually got around to it. It finally happened last weekend."

"And the police didn't check his alibi?"

"Sure, they talked to all five of his buddies." The guard thought for a second, stroking his chin, wrinkling his brow. "But I guess they didn't check the date. By golly, that was plum foolish of them. I think they looked up the wrong motion picture altogether."

"You're kidding."

"Hey, I wouldn't expect much from those fellows anyway. For one thing, why have they got you in here rather than in a hospital?"

Aaron frowned and leaned back. "What do you mean?"

"Clear as the sky to me that you're getting hurt at home. I can see the burns on your hands and feet. I see other marks and bruises too. If they're not looking into the people that caused your pain, then there's really no hope for this department."

Aaron didn't know what to say. Ernie noticed in a few minutes what everybody in his life had ignored for years. Sure, some of the police might have noticed his injuries during his arrest, but they took his mother's word instead of investigating further. Aaron had been wondering if he should try explaining more about his home life or if it was even worth it.

"Look, I hate seeing kids like you suffer," Gerald said. "Why don't we bring the cops in and tell them to find whoever's hurting you?"

"What would they do about it?"

"They might arrest whoever's doing this. Erase the harm forever."

Aaron looked down at his feet. Charles hadn't beaten him since he promised not to talk about his stepfather's umpteenth affair, but he could still see reminders from the last time. He had been cowering on the floor, hugging his knees, keeping his head down. Halfway through whipping him with a wire coat hanger, Charles failed to get any response from Aaron. Furious, he began jabbing his lit cigarette onto the boy's bare feet, just as he had done before to his hands a few times. Aaron had come very close to hitting back, but an open lighter kept him at bay. And Charles had shouted—how he had shouted—breaking decibel levels as he called Aaron every nasty word and wished for his early demise. Aaron couldn't comprehend where such intense hatred came from.

But in the end, he had reduced Charles' violence on his own, with no help from the police. The threat of telling Mother who he was cheating with was apparently enough to keep him off Aaron's back. Maybe, Aaron thought, he could find a similar ploy to get rid of Mother too. Did he really need police help?

"You okay, kid?" Ernie asked.

Aaron nodded, eyes downcast. "I don't know what to say to the police."

"Just tell them everything. It's your best bet."

"Maybe I'll talk to them if I can't handle it anymore. But I need to at least try."

"But you _will_ call if it gets real bad?"

"Yes, Ernie. I'll call." Aaron was touched by Ernie's genuine concern. No one other than Haley expressed such empathy. He cleared his throat, now wanting to direct the attention away from himself. "Can you tell me more about the interview? More about how Gerald behaved?"

"Well, he was a bit jumpy, I noticed. Didn't show emotion, but jumped at every loud noise or sudden movement."

Aaron looked up suddenly.

"Funny thing, too. He had to keep hitching his pants up because he didn't wear a belt. The officer asked why, and Gerald says, 'Just don't like 'em,' or something to that effect. Never seen somebody so poorly dressed with such a weak excuse."

Aaron's eyes slowly grew.

"Oh, and the sergeant," Ernie went on. "Halfway through, he decided to get a little tougher. Raised his voice and all that. Gerald clammed. Covered his face and clammed."

"Why?" Aaron's mouth went dry.

"Said, 'No shouting. I'll tell you everything.' And tell them he did, exonerating himself all the way. Poor kid, losing his parents at seventeen. Still, I would expect more sadness. Rebellious teenager, you suppose? Didn't like to listen to them?"

"Maybe."

There was a bang on the wall from the prisoner in the next cell, and the man yelled, "What are you yammering on about over there? I want you to fetch the sergeant for me."

Ernie glanced over his shoulder. "Nuts. I oughta' finish my rounds. Do me a favor and don't say we talked. I'm sure that interview was confidential."

"No worries," Aaron assured him.

"Take care, kid." Ernie soon walked on, leaving Aaron to stare at the wall in a state of semi-shock.

Aaron got up and continued writing down what he'd learned. He wrote and created diagrams and scratched off theories until a visitor appeared an hour later.

"Oh, Haley! You'll never believe what I found out!"

Haley carried a rolled-up newspaper under her arm and a wary smile on her lips. "What?"

"I've just go so much more information now. Inside details on an interview. I think I might actually crack this."

Haley's face fell. "I'm doing fine, thanks for asking."

The pen in Aaron's hand dropped to his side and he looked her in the eye. "I'm sorry. I won't say anymore about the case."

"Good. How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Just a little sore."

"I missed you at school. We did some fun experiments with planting seeds."

Aaron tried to look excited. "Fun."

"I heard Peter's doing better too. And his uncle was arrested this morning."

"That's great." It really was, and this time he showed some enthusiasm.

Haley sighed. "Well, you'll be out in time for the quiz, right?"

"I guess so."

"I'd be happy to study with you, if you'd like."

"I'd like that."

She hesitated. He knew he wasn't giving her the enthusiasm she wanted, and he tried to look more conversational. He knew he looked disheveled on top of everything else and wished he'd had a chance to freshen up in the morning.

Then Haley sighed again and held out the newspaper. He took it, and tried to smile.

"Thank you, Haley. And please know that I am really sorry about how this happened. I'm sorry I can't be with you more."

"It's okay. I'm not mad."

"I'll see you when I get out."

"Okay, Aaron. I hope so. Because class is boring and the bootblack who's substituting for you has no head for conversation."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I have to get back to school now. Enjoy your time off."

"Yeah."

He waited for her to disappear down the hall before throwing open the paper. ARCHERS' TEENAGE SON NO LONGER A SUSPECT IN PARENTS' MURDERS — HUNT CONTINUES FOR MARK NEWTON.

Below the headline were two photos. One of Newton, scowling above his jail number, and the other of the Archer family. Aaron immediately noticed the coldness between Mr. and Mrs. Archer and their son. The couple had hands on each other's shoulders, but neither touched Gerald. Gerald stood in front of and away from them, staring blankly ahead.

Aaron looked deep into Gerald's eyes as he processed all the behavioral details he'd been given. He recognized the stare as the same one he had seen in the mirror a hundred times. The hidden pain of abuse stood out starkly in his eyes, and Aaron knew that he alone could see it.

"Motive," he whispered.

He looked up to see the overweight guard continuing his rounds across the hall. "Ernie!"

The guard came huffing and puffing. "Everythin' okay?"

"I just want to make a phone call. Can I?"

"Should be doable. I'll get with the sergeant."

Soon Aaron was standing with ankles and wrists cuffed in a narrow room with one-way glass in one wall and about four payphones on the other. The police had taken everything from his pockets following his arrest, but he had managed to get one last look at the shiny business card. After straining to remember the number for only a few seconds, he picked up the receiver and dialed.

The line rang. And rang. By the fifth ring, Aaron started to worry. Maybe the office was empty. Or maybe he had remembered the number wrong.

He was about to hang up, disappointed, when the other end suddenly picked up.

"FBI Special Agent Jason Gideon."

"It's me, Aaron Hotchner."

"Pardon?"

"The, uh, the bootblack at the hardware store you visited..."

"Oh, yes, I remember you, Aaron. What can I do for you?"

Such a generous gesture. Aaron paused for a minute to collect his thoughts.

"Aaron?"

"I'm here, sir. I just wanted to tell you I've been following the case, and I think that Gerald Archer should be made a prime suspect."

He heard the phone shifting and papers shuffling. "Why do you think that?"

"Well, sir, there are cracks in his alibi. He clearly lied about what movie he'd been to. There were also three places set at the table on the night of the murder."

"That much I figured out. The police work around here isn't worth much mention. But why do you think he did it? Couldn't he just be scared and forgetful?"

"That's unlikely, sir. It's been two weeks and he's bound to be over the initial shock. But here's the thing. I believe he secretly hated his parents and wanted to get away from them."

"Keep going."

"He's distant from them in their family picture. He showed no sadness. More importantly, he kept flinching and behaving strangely during the interview. When I looked at his picture, suddenly I knew."

"Knew what?"

"He was abused by his parents, verbally and physically."

"You looked at his picture, and you knew?"

"Yes, sir. I can tell by his eyes."

"What kind of behavioral expert are you, Aaron?"

"I'm no expert. It's just... I saw the signs. It takes one to know one."

The line went silent.

"Agent Gideon?"

"Aaron. Are you telling me you suspect the Archers of having abused their son because you are familiar with the signs of abuse?"

Aaron swallowed. "That's right, sir. And I'm afraid he snapped. It makes sense, slitting their throats. He wanted to stop the hurtful voices."

"How can you be sure...?"

"I can't, Agent Gideon, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't know what it was like. What it's like to want to stop the pain no matter what. How you might fantasize about the ways you could stop them, even violent ways... In all honesty, sir, I have often thought about killing a couple people in my life who have put me through Hell."

"Aaron, are you getting help for this?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm at the police station right now." At least it wasn't a lie.

"Hold on one moment." Aaron heard the phone shift again. Then he heard Gideon's muffled voice saying, "Dave! Where have you been? I need you to find that address, you know the motel..."

"What's going on?"

"Wait." Gideon came back on the line. "So Aaron, let's say you're right about this. It still doesn't give us enough reason to suspect Gerald."

"I suppose not, but I think it's a lead. I can't help wondering if Gerald is in some way connected to Mark Newton. I mean, isn't it unlikely that a kid like me could pull this off on his own? Maybe he worked with Newton."

"Who's on the line?" he heard Agent Rossi ask. "Is that Hotch?"

"Yeah." Gideon again. "Aaron, you do realize that your suspicions alone do not warrant probable cause for Gerald Archer's arrest?"

"I think I know what you mean."

"We can't arrest or even suspect Gerald based only on your speculations."

"I understand, but it's not just speculation, Agent Gideon! I wouldn't call you if I wasn't sure."

"Alright. It's worth looking into. Thanks for the call, Aaron."

"I'm honored to speak with you, sir."

"No big deal. Just call anytime you have a question."

Rossi's voice came on. "Maybe we should call _him_ with our questions!"

Gideon came back: "Aaron. look after yourself. Make sure you're getting the help you need, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Too quickly, it was over. Aaron was returned to his cell and left to ponder every angle of the case. When he got tired of going over the same facts and theories, his thoughts drifted back to Haley. He hoped he hadn't turned her away. Hopefully they could find something to do together after his release.

By the end of his jail term, Aaron was ready to give the case a rest. He hadn't found any new details, and he figured Gideon and Rossi could handle it fine from here. With gradually increasing intensity, Aaron's greatest concern became that of facing his family again. He feared he wouldn't have any time to even think about the case or see Haley once he left the freedom of jail and returned to his parents' imprisonment.

—-

_**Endnote: So I finally finished a preliminary outline, and I want to give you an idea of how much longer this story is going to last. I'm expecting a total of 25 chapters, give or take, including what I've written already. I hope you're up for that! In the way of a teaser, here are the chapter names I've come up with. Any of these might get changed, but this should at least give you a general idea of what to look forward to:**_

_**Chapter 16: Zero Tolerance**_

_**Chapter 17: Breaking Point**_

_**Chapter 18: Code Three**_

_**Chapter 19: Life is a Highway**_

_**Chapter 20: No Place Like Home**_

_**Chapter 21: The Absence**_

_**Chapter 22: House of Angels**_

_**Chapter 23: The Longest Crawl**_

_**Chapter 24: A Family's Battle**_

_**Chapter 25: Uncertainty**_

_**When I finish this story, I might take a break, or I might jump right into my next idea. Unless plans change, my next story will be about Jason Gideon and David Rossi as young agents working an early case together. As of now, it will be called "1977 Case Files: Fool's Gold."**_

_**OR, I might begin work on "Fool's Gold" before finishing this story, and then alternate posting chapters from each. I would love to see your feedback on these ideas and find out what people are most interested in, as well as your thoughts on this story. Stay tuned, and thanks for reading!**_


	16. Chapter 16 -- Zero Tolerance

_**Violence Alert. May be disturbing.**_

—-

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Zero Tolerance

—

"Jailbird."

Charles would not call him anything else. Aaron Hotchner had been home barely six minutes when Charles suddenly marched him into the kitchen and began staring at him with arms crossed. Mother hung back with Sean in her arms. She actually seemed relieved that Aaron was home and upset that Charles had taken over.

Looking into Charles' bloodshot, angry eyes, Aaron didn't expect their deal to last much longer than a few seconds. He cringed a little, expecting to feel the blows soon.

"So what did you tell them?" demanded Charles.

"N—nothing."

"Oh, sure. You spent three days sitting in their nest, eating and sleeping with them. Come on, what did you tell the cops?"

"I didn't tell them anything." Watching Charles' muscles bulge with anger made him wish he had told them everything. Why had he been so stubborn to think he could handle it on his own?

"I'm warning you, kid. Did you whine about us? Did you complain about how hard we try to enforce some discipline despite your thick head?"

Aaron shook his head. _Just get it over with, if you're going to hit me._

"When are they coming?" Charles roared.

Mother came near, looking distressed. "Honey, leave him alone. He's had a hard time being locked up."

Aaron felt surprised that she had come to his defense, though he knew it wouldn't do any good.

"Shut up!" Charles turned to her. "He's not resting until he's 'fessed up! Now, what did you tell them?"

"Nothing!"

"Liar!"

"Nothing, honest. What would I gain by telling the police anything? They would just take me from home, and I would be lost and alone again. I still needed a place to stay when I got out. Besides, I couldn't be sure what you'd do to Sean if I got you in trouble. Don't you see? Of course I didn't say anything."

Charles said nothing, but he paused a moment to light a cigarette. He took a quick puff, eying Aaron angrily, and then removed the cigarette between two fingers. As he blew more ribbons of smoke into the room, Mother drew slowly closer.

"Are you satisfied?" she asked.

Charles nodded stiffly.

"Then let him go to bed. He must be exhausted."

_Why is she sticking up for me?_

Charles grunted. He took another puff on the cigarette, then clenched it between his back teeth. He turned to Mother and growled, "Get on upstairs."

She hesitated, then started to move away. She hadn't reached the stairs yet when Charles suddenly swung around and seized Aaron's collar in one fist. With his other fist, he began punching Aaron repeatedly in the face. Aaron weakly tried to block the blows with his hands, but it was no use.

"Stop it, Charles!" Mother screamed. Charles continued pummeling Aaron.

His face throbbed and blood began pooling in the corner of his mouth. Aaron spat on the floor and put a shaking hand over his eyes. Stone hard knuckles crashed into his wrist. A right hook rattled his teeth. The room spun on its head.

When the attack finally stopped, Aaron didn't know which way was up or down, or what were the shapes that swirled around him. He thought he might even be having a hallucination and had never woken up from his cot in jail. He was only fully aware of the lightning bolts of pain lashing through every bone in his face like a cracking whip.

Only Charles' grip on his collar held him upright. His stepfather leaned close to his ear and whispered in a gravelly, threatening voice, "I'm finished bending to you. You'll never tell your mother about my squeeze. You don't have the guts."

The words barely made sense in Aaron's chaotic head. He wanted to wipe the warm wetness that dripped down his chin.

Suddenly, the kitchen began reeling again. Charles' hand was dragging Aaron into a lopsided dive that ended when his nose collided with the edge of the table. Aaron gasped and collapsed with his head against a table leg.

"Are you listening to me, jailbird?" Charles' distorted voice boomed overhead. "You will never get in contact with the police _ever_ again!"

Aaron pressed a hand over the left side of his face, trying to steady his vision and ease the pain.

He heard Mother's voice pleading. "Leave him alone! He's had enough."

"I don't think he got the message." Charles moved away from Aaron. Aaron heard a drawer open and forced his vision clear. Charles had found a four-inch kitchen knife and held it menacingly in the light.

Oh, no, no, no, please no. Aaron felt his heart pick up speed. He had sometimes wondered how horrible it would feel to be stabbed and had prayed it would never happen to him. It may have been the thing he dreaded most. Seeing the knife turn slowly in Charles' hand, Aaron imagined the blade carving up his torso and leaving him permanently scarred. That... that would be his worst nightmare.

But Charles didn't move toward Aaron. Instead, he headed in Mother's direction.

Then Aaron heard Mother scream, and Sean began to cry. Horrified, he saw Charles taking the baby from Mother's arms.

"Don't you touch him!" Mother screamed. She tried uselessly to get Sean back, but Charles pushed her aside with one hand to her collarbone. The knife gleamed eerily as he clenched the handle in his teeth.

Aaron's panic level shot through the roof. Despite his dizziness and lack of orientation, he pulled himself to his feet and grabbed Charles' arm with both his hands.

"Don't... hurt him." Aaron gathered his strength. "Drop the knife!"

Charles backhanded him, easily landing him on the floor again. He took the knife from his teeth and held the blade close to Sean's face. Mother screamed, and Aaron yelled at the top of his lungs. Charles only chuckled.

"No police," said Charles. "Ever. Or I don't have to tell you what will happen to this squirt's face."

Aaron raised his hand in protest but couldn't pick himself off the floor. "I'll do what you want! I won't go near the police. Just put the knife down!"

"You're so weak," said Charles, bringing the blade closer to Sean's face.

Then Aaron did something he would never have considered before. He clasped his hands and raised his face subserviently to Charles' towering figure. Tears tore through the blood on his face as he squeezed his eyes shut. "I swear, I will do _anything_! I'm begging you, Charles. Don't hurt Sean."

There was a long pause where only Sean's crying could be heard. Then the knife plunged blade-first into the linoleum a few inches from Aaron's leg.

"Pick yourself up," ordered Charles. "And remember, no police means no police. I will know if you say one word."

He then shoved Sean back into his mother's arms. Mother embraced the baby, stroked his hair, cried with relief.

Charles plucked the cigarette from his back teeth. "Alright, clear out! All of you!"

Mother and Sean hurried away. Charles kicked Aaron in his side, and Aaron began crawling away.

"Need help?" Charles taunted. Aaron shook his head, but his stepfather grabbed his collar and dragged him across the floor, through the kitchen door, and into the garage. After dropping Aaron on the cold concrete, Charles backed away and continued smoking.

"No police," Charles kept insisting. "No police."

The chant ended when he slammed the door. Trapped in the sudden darkness, Aaron buried his face in his arm and cried in heaving sobs. He had never been so frightened until that blade came near his baby brother's face. That image would forever stain his retinas, accompanied by the threatening order of "no police."

Despite his promises to Agent Gideon and Ernie the guard, Aaron knew he could never get help from the police. He should have taken that chance when it was handed to him. Now he would live with regrets.

Some homecoming this was. He wished Haley was there to comfort him, or was she too a bystander harmed by his decisions?


	17. Chapter 17 -- Breaking Point

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Breaking Point

—

Sometime during the darkest, longest stretch of the night, a pair of cold hands rested on Aaron's trembling shoulders. He tried not to move, and he felt one hand slide to his face and touch the tenderest wounds. Aaron winced, but the hand—now holding a coarse rag—began wiping blood away.

He reached for the hand at his face and held it firmly. "Stop... please..." he choked.

In the semi-darkness, he couldn't make out the figure kneeling at his side, but he heard a deep intake of breath. Then Mother's whisper: "I'm sorry, Aaron."

He flinched at her voice alone. "What are you doing here?"

"I just want you to know... I'm glad you're home safely."

Aaron almost choked again. "Don't say that. You don't mean it."

"I do." She resumed the painful cleaning of his face, and Aaron moaned.

"Why do you care?" he gasped.

"You're my husband's son. I can't risk losing him completely."

Aaron wanted to tell her to leave him alone. He knew her bizarre affection would not last. But instead of shunning her, he gave in to her touch. He held her hand to his face, not letting go. Maybe she really did want to help him, but regardless of her motives, Aaron just wanted to savor some human closeness that didn't hurt.

"You might not believe me, but I was really scared when you went to jail," said Mother softly. "I was scared for our family and what might become of you."

Aaron didn't know whether or not to believe her. He just kept listening, pretending her words were sincere.

"I realized how fragile we all are. I wish I could fix everything, make it how it was before." Her fingers moved and she sighed. "Would you ever forgive me, Aaron?"

He wanted to think he would. But knowing she would turn around the next day and torment him all over again, he couldn't see himself accepting any apologies. "I don't know, Mom."

"I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

With that, Mother placed something small and lumpy on the concrete in front of Aaron's face. Then she leaned over and kissed the small corner of his face that wasn't on fire. Just as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone. The garage felt colder than before, and darker too, now that she had closed the door again. If she was really sorry, Aaron thought, she would bring him inside and throw Charles out.

Then Aaron reached to where Mother left some strange object. The lump squashed softly in his grip, like a crusty sponge. He drew it closer to his face and breathed in the dry scent of stale bread. For all he knew, she could have left him some contaminated or spoiled food, but he hadn't eaten since breakfast in jail. Not raising half his face from the cold, hard ground, he devoured the crumbling gift. Though long past its date, it tasted like a royal pastry. His hazy head swam with gratitude.

He was home alright. Home to the roller coaster-ing contradictions, confusing emotions, and undying vigilance. His cheekbone was probably fractured, too.

—-

Aaron couldn't meet anyone's eye as he walked into math class in the morning. He heard Mrs. Gillansy gasp but refused to look up at her.

"What happened to you, Hotchner?"

Aaron struggled to contain a furious outburst. Burying his emotions deep inside, he reluctantly recited the humiliating, reputation-shredding words Charles had shaken into him earlier that day: "I got mixed up with the wrong crowd and resisted arrest."

If he had looked up and seen the wave of turning heads and intrigued expressions, he would have turned and ran far away. As it was, he simply sat down and opened the textbook in front of his face. He knew he would be the talk of the school for weeks, maybe months to come. However subtly, Mrs. Gillansy began treating him like a special needs student who might pose a threat to everybody else.

The very second the bell rang, Aaron stormed down the hall and went outside. Autumn had choked most of the foliage surrounding the school grounds, but as Aaron walked further away, he noticed some sparse blooms. He sat down among the stripped trees and swaying stalks lining the parking lot. Breathing in the crisp, leafy scents, he knew what he had to do.

Haley was already in her place in biology, an empty seat beside her. She was considerably early; only two other students were setting up in the back. Aaron took a deep breath and headed to her seat in the front row.

"Aaron?" Haley's eyes went wide at his face.

He wanted to hug her but controlled the impulse. "Look," he whispered, suddenly fighting a wave of shyness. "These are for you."

He held out a motley bouquet of orange hibiscus flowers, lacy-looking weeds, maples leaves, and some small white blossoms he couldn't identify—all held together with a knotted strip of notebook paper. Together they created a vibrant, if not slightly sagging and wrinkly, display of muted color.

Haley inhaled with pleasure and accepted the bundle of cropped plants. "Oh, Aaron. It's lovely."

He allowed himself a faint smile. Haley beamed at him, graciously overlooking his grievous bruises.

"How have you been?" she whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't visit you yesterday."

"No worries. Stepdad's making me feel right at home."

"I'm sorry."

"I keep wondering if, maybe, if I could get him to leave, Mother might be happier."

"I don't know how you would do that."

"Me neither." Actually, he did have an idea, just a seed of an idea. It was a long shot.

Haley fingered a smooth petal. "So about studying for the quiz, I don't actually have the right textbook."

"You can borrow mine."

"Or we could get together later today. Or tomorrow if you'd rather."

Aaron hung his head. To make everything worse, Charles had instilled a strict curfew over the house with the intent of limiting Aaron's time with any friends. He wasn't sure how to tell her.

"You know, I should probably see about getting rid of Charles first. Then we can plan to study together."

"How are you going to do that?"

"I have got an idea. I just want to know you have my back."

She cocked her head a little. "You know I will."

"Good, cuz this could get dangerous."

"I would expect nothing less from you."

—

Aaron and Haley felt like burglars waiting late at night for their targets to enter the building. They hunched in the old blue pickup and quietly watched the dark brick buildings across the street.

The street was lined on both sides with boarded-up store fronts and narrow passages to even darker, emptier alleys. Metal trash cans and bulging black bags lay fallen beside brick walls, their contents strewn over the cold asphalt. The chilly wind had no doubt toppled the cans, and no one seemed to be around to right them again. Rain poured steadily over rooftops, down the walls and windows, onto the street. A siren blared far in the distance, but it was the only sound in the still, foreboding atmosphere.

Across the street, a dark tavern with yellowish windows squatted under a net of powerlines. A garish neon sign flickered and buzzed above the doorway, screaming at nobody in particular, "PLAY THE NIGHT AWAY! BENTLEY'S CASINO AND LIQUOR." A station wagon had parallel-parked in front of the bar, and Aaron waited patiently for the two occupants to get out.

The plan was rife with risk, but Haley had agreed to play the getaway driver. Aaron had gone directly home after work, endured Charles' vulgar verbal abuse while he hurried through his homework, and then waited inconspicuously until Charles left the house "for a drink." Haley had parked down the block, as planned, and Aaron crept past his mother to go out and meet her. Then the pair followed Charles from a distance as he picked up his blond lover and drove downtown.

Now they watched Charles lead the woman through the sheltered doorway into the bar. A snatch of popular music spilled out into the street when the door briefly opened.

"Ready?" Haley asked.

Aaron nodded and secured a medical mask over his mouth and nose. He then slipped on Mr. Brooks' sunglasses and his own father's Bristol Pirates baseball cap. "Wish me luck," he whispered, then leaned over and jokingly kissed Haley through the mask. She giggled.

As a final touch, Aaron zipped up his father's brown leather airman jacket. Then he hopped out of the truck and crossed the rainy street with back hunched and hands in pockets.

Gathering his courage, he entered the bar. Cigarette smoke curled around him, but the mask kept the worst of it from choking him. He coughed a little to complete the facade that he wore the mask for a cold. He heard the clatter of poker tokens being tossed around, and the faint _slap_ of playing cards shuffling. Over in one corner, a group of motley vagrants laughed raucously at who-knew-what, their voices thick and their behavior swayed with alcohol. A curvaceous brunette strutted from table to table, waiting on anyone who wasn't already too intoxicated to make an order. Glasses clinked and cigars puffed without relent, and Aaron stopped for a minute, wondering wildly if he was out of his mind and if it would be a better idea to walk back out. But then he spotted the familiar shaggy brown hair and goatee of the one he was looking for, and he made up his mind to follow through.

The place was noisy and crowded. Above the unsavory shouts and chatter, Blondie's recent hit "Call Me" pulsed through the atmosphere. Half the patrons looked like they should be deep inside jail. Aaron felt very grateful that no strong-armed guard stood at the door to check for IDs, though he almost wished somebody would tell him to think again and get out while he could.

Charles sat at a circular table, slapping cards with the best of them. Already his head swayed to one side and a half-empty glass sat near his elbow. The Hotchners' blond neighbor hugged his arm and stroked his shoulder as she whispered in his ear. Aaron already knew Charles was cheating, but seeing the disgusting display made him feel physically sick.

Aaron hung around the bar, keeping his head down and trying not to be noticed. He watched his stepfather down glass after glass, waiting for him to efficiently numb his mind. He had planned to take Charles' keys and escape with them, leaving the man stranded. Knowing Charles, he would likely make a fuss and refuse to leave after closing time, and chances were good that he would get arrested for not controlling his violent temper. Now that he was in the thick of the scheme, Aaron couldn't help seeing the plan as frighteningly juvenile. He didn't even know how he would get the keys.

He thought wildly of joining the poker game. Maybe he could get Charles to bet his car keys. Aaron used to play poker with his father, never for money, but for bits of junk like bottle caps and fishing hooks. It was more of a conversational pastime than a high stakes game, but he wasn't a bad player. He always wondered if he would ever have to use his card skills for a more important purpose.

Of course that wouldn't work here. He would just keep waiting for Charles to get so inebriated he would just hand his keys to this oddly disguised stranger.

As he watched everybody play their cards, he noticed Charles give the woman a push. "Get me something to drink," he ordered her.

Aaron suddenly realized that Charles was using that woman more than he was loving her. He started to wonder how much of their "relationship" was mutual and how much was Charles' need to control someone. He remembered Charles forcefully kissing the girl at a cafe weeks ago. He had thought she didn't want to be around him then. Now she looked like a mindless slave.

The woman got up, and Aaron saw her displeased face as she turned away. As she headed for the bar, she accidentally bumped into Aaron, knocking his sunglasses to the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

Aaron crouched to retrieve the glasses and then stood. The woman's eyes went wide at the sight of the red and purple marks around his eye and upper cheek. Aaron looked at her face, unscreened by the shades, and saw her wretched sadness. He didn't feel very sorry for her, but he realized she deserved to know the truth. With one hand, he tore off the mask, revealing more extensive bruising and untreated cuts down to his lips and chin.

The woman acted like she wanted to move on, but she couldn't look away from the terribly battered face. "You're... you're just a kid." Of course, that wasn't the main problem.

Aaron touched one finger to his bruises. "I think you should know," he said quietly, glancing back at Charles. "Your boyfriend did this to me."

The woman gasped. Despite her thick make up, she looked pale. "Chuck?" she whispered.

Aaron nodded.

"And who are you?" She looked truly aghast.

"Chuck's stepson."

The woman's look of shock washed away as anger reddened her face. Before he could stop her, she turned back to the table, marched up to Charles, and said, "Hey!"

Charles turned to face her, looking annoyed. Immediately, she struck him in the face, and he crashed into the tabletop. He sprang back up, chair clunking aside as he got to his feet, furious, but his drunkenness had deadened his sense of direction.

"You sick son of a b—!" the woman screamed at him. "I never want to see you again. You're a sorry, evil excuse for a man!"

Charles stuttered but said nothing. He didn't seem to comprehend what just happened. Aaron stood back, trying to keep out of sight, but not wanting to miss a second of the exchange. His jaw had dropped when the woman hit Charles, and an odd, heady sensation had made him go numb. _You tell him, lady._

Then the woman reached past Charles and took the car keys he had dropped on the table. "You can walk home, for all I care," she said and began moving away. "Don't call me."

"Don't you walk away from me!" Charles reached for her arm. Another patron got in his way.

The woman let the door slam as she left. Aaron quickly ducked out of sight behind a particularly large customer with a Spanish mustache.

"She's stealing my car!" Charles hollered. He misstepped and staggered into another man. "Call the police!"

Nobody moved apart from their uninterrupted activities. Charles looked ready to blow a fuse, and Aaron marveled at how his plan had worked completely different from how he planned it. Before a fight could break out, he hurried through the crowd, out the door, and across the street. Charles' station wagon tore down the road as he passed.

When Aaron climbed into the truck's passenger seat, Haley wrinkled her brow at him. "What in the world happened? And why aren't you hiding your face?"

Aaron dropped the mask and glasses into the glove compartment and pulled off his dad's hat, releasing a cowlick in the back of his hair. "I didn't have to take the keys," he said. "Chuck's girl dumped him."

"Will it work?"

"We'll see. He's mad as a drunk cagefighter."

They decided to wait until the police came. However, an hour later they were both dozing and hadn't seen any flashing lights. Aaron sighed, hoping the cops would be on their way soon.

"Let's go home," he said, feeling resigned but cautiously optimistic.

"Alright. Keep me awake."

They talked about anything at all, just like they used to before Aaron's arrest. They were both so glad for that mess to be over, and though Aaron secretly thought about his new interest in the murder case, he didn't mention it. Haley's ballet was coming up soon, and Aaron promised to attend. Haley asked if Aaron would consider appearing in anymore stage productions. When he said it was unlikely, she actually seemed relieved. Okay, his acting sucked. But he told her that he kept the pirate hat she gave him stored away in a box in the basement. He hoped to keep it forever. He also noticed the bouquet he gave her tucked into a rubber band around the truck's sun visor.

When Haley pulled up to Aaron's street past midnight, they saw the station wagon on the sidewalk in front of the Hotchner home. Minutes later, the blond woman marched out the front door and hurried down the sidewalk toward her home.

"This can't be good," Aaron muttered.

"If you'd rather sleep on my couch tonight, I'm sure Dad would understand," said Haley.

"That's alright. I have to know what's happening here. Thanks though."

"Keep me updated."

Back at his home, Aaron crawled into a narrow window well and dropped down through the open basement window. Moving quickly past the grumbling washer and dryer and miscellaneous boxes, he ventured up the ladder-like steps and peered around the half-closed door. The living room looked trashed with bottles, pillows, books, and a lamp thrown about. He even saw an overstuffed suitcase and box of computer parts leaning against the wall. Hearing a bottle shatter over in the kitchen, he quickly withdrew.

Aaron waited till the coast was clear, then crept into the living room and ducked behind the couch before he could be sighted. Crouching in the tight, dusty space, he realized this was where Haley witnessed his mother flogging him with a nasty extension cord. He had since buried that cord in the backyard under the thorn bushes. He prayed he would not be discovered this time.

He could hear Mother muttering to herself and breaking things in anger. He hoped to pick up some clue about her conversation with the neighbor, but he could quickly guess how it went.

Only a couple minutes later, the front door unlocked. Aaron tensed up and risked peering around the arm of the couch. To his great chagrin, Charles stood in the doorway, reeking of smoke and alcohol and looking slightly dazed.

Mother marched out of the kitchen and asked the question on Aaron's mind: "How did you get back here?"

"Taxi. Like you care."

"I don't care! I thought you said you had stopped sleeping around. You promised!"

"I don't want to talk about it right now."

"We will talk! Do you know who was just here?"

"Don't wanna know."

To Aaron's surprise, Mother picked up the lamp and swung it at his head. Charles barely ducked in time. "Knock it off, woman!" he snapped, voice pitched too high.

"I won't have you pushing us around and going behind my back with my neighbors! It's bad enough that you torture Aaron and threaten Sean. Now you're attacking me!"

"Oh, like you've _never_ hurt those boys! Leave me alone."

"No. No, we're done. Get out of my house."

"Excuse me?"

"Leave us! You can sleep in a hotel. Don't ever come by again."

Charles looked exasperated and, for the first time, vulnerable. "You can't do this to me!"

Mother picked up the large suitcase and dragged it past him to the door. Pushing the door open with one hand, she tossed the case out onto the lawn. She then threw the box of computer parts after it. "I've packed all your junk for you. Now _leave_!"

Charles clenched his fists but couldn't focus his glare. "This isn't over!"

"Then I'll see you in court!"

"I hate you and your bratty boys!"

Mother hurled a bottle at him. This time it connected with his temple, and he staggered backward. His chest heaved and he looked like he wanted to shout something. Instead, he turned and punched a hole in the drywall. The minute he stormed outside, Mother slammed the door and bolted it.

Mother stood there with her hand on the knob, breathing heavily. Finally taking an easy breath, she sank to the floor and began sobbing quietly. Aaron wondered if he should go out and comfort her. He decided to stay put, mind still reeling from the night's events. His goal of removing Charles had finally been reached, and he could hardly believe the monster was gone.

The question remained, would Mother still be a threat? Or were they really on the path to improvement?


	18. Chapter 18 -- Code Three

_**Warning: This might be the most violent chapter. Be warned of interrogation-style violence and distress.**_

—_**-**_

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - Code Three

—

The next day was a Saturday. The calmest, quietest, most unusual Saturday in recent history. Early in the morning, Aaron walked through the silent house, almost confused by the abnormal peace. Though he naturally tensed up at every corner, he felt a bold sense of freedom that let him relax as he wandered. The house seemed cleaner and brighter, too. Had someone opened the shades, or had the smoke simply cleared? He breathed the clean, smoke-free—albeit stagnant—air on his way to the kitchen. The only thing remaining to remind him of life as he knew it was the imploded hole in the wall where Charles' fist left its final mark.

Mother sat calmly at the kitchen table, reading the paper and absently stirring a cup of tea. Sean sat in his high chair, just as silent as Mother, mashing a banana with his palm and rubbing it on his face. Aaron paused in the doorway, wondering if the idyllic image was really his own family. He decided to test it and said, "Good morning."

Sean looked up but soon returned to his dismembered breakfast. Mother did not move or blink or speak. Fine. At least she wasn't angry.

Aaron continued testing the limit as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. He usually stopped at the halfway point to ensure he could finish before he was stopped. Mother had been known to take his food out from under him if he didn't hurry and replace it with something from last night's rubbish bin—an orange peel, most likely, or maybe a half-eaten crust of sandwich. Aaron had gotten so used to being hungry, it struck him as a revelation that he might get away with having enough to eat now. Rather than stopping with a half-filled bowl, he picked up the cereal box again and poured until the wheat flakes formed a peak two inches above the rim.

Still, Mother did not look up. She did turn a page in the newspaper, if only to prove she was still alive.

Aaron held a hand over the cereal dome as he poured milk into the sides of the bowl. Expectedly, the cereal rose with the milk and spilled a ring of flakes onto the table. That was sure to get a response, Aaron thought.

Mother only took a sip of tea, eyes glued to the paper.

Well, maybe she just wanted him to enjoy his breakfast in peace. Whatever the reason, Aaron shrugged it off and sat down to his first full, unrushed, unworried breakfast in years.

Nobody took the bowl from him. Nobody knocked it from the table and ordered him to clean it up before he missed the bus. Nobody smacked him for "wasting hard-earned money to feed a useless bag of bones." He didn't even feel the need to eat so fast that his stomach couldn't tell the difference between cereal and orange peel. He ate a leisurely pace, at least until his famished belly urged him to take advantage of this rare opportunity and devour everything in sight.

The change in environment was jarringly different and strange. Aaron couldn't ignore it. Mother, on the other hand, was taking it all too well, almost acting as if nothing had happened. It was unsettling, seeing her blank face behind the paper as she sipped her tea. Charles was gone, but something was still very wrong. Mother completely ignored Aaron. He may as well have been a ghost.

Finally Mother finished her tea and folded up the paper. Aaron tensed and placed his hands defensively over his now half-empty bowl. Still ignoring him, Mother lifted Sean from his chair and zipped up his jacket. "Let's take that walk in the park now, Sweetie," she said.

Sean gurgled. Perfectly compliant and innocent.

With the baby in her arms, Mother started to walked out of the kitchen. Aaron faced a Saturday alone.

"Mom," he called suddenly, surprising himself.

She stopped in the doorway but didn't look back.

"I'm going to see a friend today."

Maybe she would object. She might even get mad and say he didn't deserve friends. But, no. "I don't care what you do," she mumbled. Then she walked out the front door.

Okay. That's that. Aaron wished he had gotten some reaction from her. Her new empty attitude was almost scarier than her past drunk monster persona.

Aaron finished his bowl, savored a second serving, and then rang up his best friend.

"Are you okay?" was the first thing Haley asked.

"I'm great. Guess what? Mom threw Charles out of the house last night. He's gone for good!"

"Hey, that's wonderful!"

"And now Mom is out with Sean. So do you want to study for that quiz?"

"Oh, I would love to! I'll be right over."

"Should be safe now. If Mom comes back and changes her mind, we'll just hide out in the basement."

"On my way."

Barely five minutes later, Haley came jogging through the door with her arms laden with notebooks and paper. The last time she came over, Aaron had spent the brief minutes before her arrival picking up trash and hiding every alcohol bottle he could find. This time, the floor didn't need much cleaning, and all of Mother's bottles were neatly lined behind the cupboard door. Surprisingly, Mother had cleaned up her own angry mess last night. The cleaning helped restore some of the pure tidiness of the home that existed before Father died. Aaron actually felt good about the house he had to present to his friend.

In fact, he felt so good he insisted she leave all of the study material on the table and come with him for a guided tour. Haley laughed and agreed, seemingly relieved and hopeful that this visit would turn out much better than the last. Aaron knew she shared his excitement about Charles leaving, but if there was any hesitation in her joy, he knew it was because she had seen his Mother, not Charles, whip Aaron senseless.

He showed her his parents' bedroom first, explaining how his father used to read to him on the big bed. Then he showed her his own room, which was in a sad state of neglect. Besides the dusty pile-up, it was clear that he hadn't slept in the bed in ages. Trying to overlook that fact, Aaron began showing her his nearly forgotten possessions: a coin collection in a plastic case, a partially finished airplane model, and even his tin soldier collection from when he was ten. Showing her around, Aaron just wanted to feel normal. He wanted to prove that he was an ordinary kid with typical interests and a normal home. It didn't quite work, but it felt good for a moment.

Though not a normal staple of house tours, Aaron wanted to show her the unfinished basement. The shelves and piles of junk beside the washer and dryer begged for organization, but otherwise the middle of the room was rather tidy. A rag bin and laundry basket stood side-by-side with contents neatly folded. Boxes had been lined up and stacked in arrangement for seating and desk space. A few curious drawings and notes had been tacked to the wall beneath rusty pipes, along with a wrinkled map of the city. Aaron couldn't hide the fact that the basement looked much more lived-in than his own room. Not much point hiding it anyway.

He knelt and opened a box. "I want to show you something."

Inside were hardback volumes of law books crammed tighter than sardines. Aaron lifted one of the Virginia Revised Statutes tomes and flipped to the title page. There he found a note jotted in his father's perfect cursive: "Note to self—Page 134 was lent to fellow student Montgomery. If not returned by my son's due date, the deal to name my baby after my classmate is off. -J.H."

"I don't get it," said Haley.

"Neither do I," admitted Aaron. "But my father wrote it, and it makes me think about the things he did and the jokes he started and the deals he made. It always makes me smile."

"I see."

Aaron replaced the book and opened another box. "Look, here is my dad's army uniform. Did you know he toured in Vietnam before he got married?"

"No, I didn't."

"And here is his wedding photo." Aaron commented as he opened his father's metal-cased Bible and found the black-and-white snapshot between the pages. He frowned at his mother's smile, but his father's glow was infectious. Also folded away between Matthew and Mark was a Polaroid of a grumpy baby in a hospital bed with his mother. Father leaned over with the most elated expression.

Haley giggled at the baby's face. "Is that...?"

"Yes, that's me."

"You haven't changed a bit!"

Aaron smiled a little at her teasing, though she may have had a point about his expression.

Haley smiled and looked in awe over all the crates of memorabilia. "You have a lot of lovely memories of your father."

"Yeah. I smuggled all his stuff down here; otherwise I'm afraid Mom would have thrown it all out. She was so mad when he died."

Haley put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "At least you know better. You'll never forget him."

They looked through artifacts and memories for a few more minutes. When they finished, they came back upstairs and approached the stack of schoolwork. Aaron began thinking up other distractions before they got studying.

They sat down and began talking about family. Aaron had big dreams to start a family someday. He talked about being a father and raising children—six or seven, he imagined. Haley shared many of his dreams. Aaron mentioned how watching Sean made him want to look out for a child of his own. His role model was his father, of course, and he hoped to overcome the examples set forth by his mother and stepfather.

They were interrupted by the sound of the front door unlatching. Aaron froze and listened.

Haley glanced at the basement door, obviously wanting to take cover. "Aaron..."

"Don't worry. It's just Mom. She knew someone was coming over. I'll explain if needed."

"You're sure she doesn't mind?"

"Things are different now."

She didn't look convinced.

Then the door opened, and a tall, greasy figure pushed inside. Aaron went numb with dread and backed out of his chair and onto his feet. Charles stood with one hand on the doorknob and the other holding a mechanic kit. He looked especially sloppy and wore rubber gloves on both hands.

"What are you doing here?" Aaron demanded. Haley came beside him and anxiously took his hand.

"I came for what's mine," slurred Charles. His eyes looked bloodshot and intense.

"Don't come any closer," said Aaron, moving in front of Haley.

Charles set his box down on the table and walked intentionally up to Aaron. He looked down with an evil gaze. "I won't hurt you if you tell me where to find my son. You know he belongs to me."

Aaron looked him in the eye, lowering his eyebrows into a steady glare. "I have nothing to say to you."

Charles cracked him in the jaw with the back of his hand. "Try again."

"Leave my house. You're not welcome here."

Though he sounded brave saying it, chills gripped Aaron. He knew it wouldn't end this easy. From behind him, Haley's fingers tightened on his arm.

Charles stroked his neck and chin as he sized up his prey. "You know, she may be boring and worthless, but your mother did give me something—a son. He's mine and I'm not leaving without him."

"The courts will decide that, and I don't think they'll agree with you."

"Do you know what else she gave me?" Now waiting for an answer, Charles' clawing hand grabbed ahold of Aaron's bony wrist. "She gave me a brainless target to release my frustration on." He yanked Aaron by the arm and held him against the table.

"Leave him alone!" Haley broke free from her paralysis and landed a spirited fist in Charles' shoulder. Charles flinched in surprise, then quickly recovered and slapped her in the face.

Aaron's free hand shot out and punched Charles rather uselessly in the chest. "DON'T TOUCH HER!"

"Well, aren't you both nice and feisty." Charles grabbed both of his wrists and leaned close to his face. "You struggle, I cut her pretty face open."

Aaron glared right back. "You hurt her, I won't say a word about where Sean is."

"We'll see." With a forceful glance at a thoroughly shaken Haley, Charles pulled a coiled wire from his kit and tightly lashed Aaron's hands together. Forcing Aaron to his knees, he then bound the boy's hands to a table leg.

Haley hovered nervously nearby, clearly wanting to interfere, but at the same time not wanting to anger the crazed man. Keeping an eye on both her and Aaron, Charles took a few steps up the stairs and hollered, "Anyone home?" Getting no answer, he crossed to the living room, opened and shut the basement door, and called out for Mrs. Hotchner. He finally came back to the kitchen. "Where are they?"

Aaron looked away. He saw Haley's eyes pleading with him but intently shook his head.

"Tell me where my son is, and we can make this quick," Charles demanded.

Conflicted between his need to protect both Haley and Sean, Aaron said nothing. He figured he could take whatever torture Charles had in store and not betray the baby, but if his stepfather went after Haley, he wouldn't know what to do.

"I never lose in cards, and I never lose in life," Charles went on. "I always get what I play for, you understand? Now I'm not leaving this crumby family without that bratty little welfare check!"

"Sean is not a dollar amount," said Aaron. "Or a poker chip."

"Well, you're a bad hand." Charles crouched and ripped Aaron's blue T-shirt from the shoulder to the middle of his back. "How dare you deny me what's rightfully mine?"

Haley spoke up, voice shaking so hard she could barely enunciate. "Stop, please. Don't hurt him."

"You shut up!"

Aaron avoided meeting her eye. "Haley," he said softly. "It's okay."

"You two make me sick," said Charles as he dug through his mechanic kit. The hateful fan belt was back, dangling in loops in his hand. His patience expired, Charles struck out with the belt.

Aaron sealed his lips against the pain, but then he realized what a danger his pride could be. If he gave Charles neither answers nor a satisfactory pain reaction, his stepfather might turn on Haley. Charles was a sadist, but Aaron had taken this sort of beating many times before. He could take it again. And he knew the way to satisfy a sadist: show some pain.

He knew it would upset Haley, but he also knew what would protect her. At the next blow, he let out a cry of pain.

Haley gasped, "Stop! You're hurting him!"

"Apparently not enough." Charles looked livid. "Give me an answer, boy!"

Aaron showed pain, but gave no answers. A succession of heavy blows crashed into his back, and he felt as if he would crumble like a house of cards. He thought about stories that his father had told him, stories about fellow soldiers in Vietnam who became POWs. Aaron was never sure if Father was taken prisoner himself, but he knew many dreadful details about the tortures these prisoners suffered. When under terrible pain at home, Aaron tended to think about those POWs, of which his father might have been one, and how much worse their circumstances were. He knew those men were in much more pain than he was in now, and he wished he could have their courage. He imagined himself as his father's comrade and tried to live up to his father's unbreakable spirit.

Suddenly Charles stopped the beating. With a short knife, he cut loose Aaron's left hand from the wire and pushed him around so he hung by his right arm while facing his captor.

Charles punched him in the gut. "Where's my son?"

Getting no answer, he sprang up and grabbed Haley's tearful face. "Whatever happens to her is your fault," he told Aaron, before slapping her again.

Aaron caught his breath and called out, "Look, I'll tell... I'll tell you what you want to know."

Charles turned back to him. Aaron choked and tried to speak, but his words came out in a whisper. Charles knelt and leaned close.

Aaron took a deep breath, then willfully spat in Charles' eye.

Charles' face burned red. He reached for his kit again and removed a curved tire iron. _Focus on me,_ Aaron mentally pleaded. _Not Haley_.

Aaron got his wish. Charles brought back the tire iron in a wide arc behind his head, then hurled it around to smash into Aaron's ribs. In an instant, Aaron couldn't breathe. The iron slashed across his chest again, and he felt something snap inside.

Charles pushed Aaron back with a boot to his stomach. Then he planted his hand over half Aaron's face and struck him again with the iron. A nerve-fraying, bone-crunching blow turned his upper arm into a throbbing mess. Another blow shattered another rib. The next blow broke open the scabs on his face while nicking some bone underneath.

In all his years, he had _never_ experienced such overwhelming, crushing pain. He couldn't move or breathe.

—-

Haley knew she needed a weapon. As soon as the tire iron broke her friend's rib, she stopped being scared. Now she was purely furious. A speedy inventory of the tools in Charles' kit turned up a long-handled wrench. Haley seized one end and rushed up behind Charles. Throwing all her strength into her arms, she struck him in the back.

Charles howled in pain and surprise and turned, iron clenched midair. Haley didn't give him a second to think as she struck him in the side.

He stumbled to his feet and raised the tire iron. With his arm in the air, leaving his front defenseless, Haley struck him in the chest. He paused to catch his breath, and she struck him again.

The iron suddenly dropped with a _thunk_. Charles clutched his chest, trying hard to breathe. He collapsed against the table and began searching frantically through his box. He found a prescription bottle of lung cancer medication, but several shakes proved it to be empty. Without another word, Charles grabbed the kit and left the house without even closing the door.

Haley dove to Aaron's side and began feeling his face and chest for breaks. Her stomach twisted inside-out when she felt his ribs depress under her touch. Aaron moaned, but he was also wheezing. He sputtered and drooled blood, then spat out a tooth.

"Aaron... Aaron, say something! Are you okay?"

"Yeah... I'm... I'm okay. Are you?"

It sounded ludicrous when he gave his "I'm okay" mantra in this state. Haley quickly cut the cord that still held his right hand to the table leg. "We are going to the hospital," she said. Period.

"No... can't... do that."

"You can hardly breathe. Come on."

Aaron shook his head, and tears spilled down his face. But he had no strength to resist as Haley put an arm around him and guided him to his feet. She had to support over half his weight as they trekked outside and across the street to Mr. Brooks' truck. Charles' station wagon was already gone.

It was a struggle getting Aaron into the passenger's side. He couldn't pull himself up and almost fell over a couple times. But Haley persisted. Quietly apologizing for whatever pressure she had to put on his back and arms, she supported him into the seat and helped him sit up. The seat belt kept him from falling over again, but it also seemed to hurt his chest.

Haley hurried around to the driver's side and started the truck before buckling. She sped away, tearing over the sidewalk as they turned, and drove over the speed limit into the city.

"Are you okay?" Aaron asked again.

She couldn't believe it. There he was, suffering in every bone, and he was worried about her. "I'm not hurt. Don't worry about me."

"He's going... to find Sean," Aaron muttered, half to himself.

"Don't worry about that either. You need to get treated."

Aaron moaned, holding his chest and struggling to catch a breath. Haley reached out her right hand as she drove and comfortingly touched his shoulder. Tears stung her eyes. She could not let this keep happening. If she had the chance, she thought she might kill Charles _and_ Mrs. Hotchner.

They pulled into the Emergency Room parking area with squealing tires. Haley didn't bother to park in the lines. She hurried around to Aaron's side and tried to help him down, but he held out a hand to stop her.

"No. We can't... go in."

"I'll help you. We're going to find a doctor."

"Don't make me go in. I don't... wanna to this."

Haley sighed angrily. "You can't hide forever. You need help."

Aaron shook his head. "No, that's not it. It's... Sean. Mom can't protect him. Charles will... find him, and kill him if I talk to anybody."

"Your stepfather wants to take Sean as his son. He's not going to kill him."

"He will. All I can see... is that knife... slicing up Sean's face. Charles would do it. He doesn't care."

"Maybe I can do something to stop him. The point is, Aaron, you don't have a choice. Your ribs might have torn your lungs. You could be bleeding internally and not know it till you die. Please listen to me, Aaron. I'll do everything I can, but in the meantime, you have to come inside."

"Haley, you have to promise... you won't tell anyone what happened."

"What?"

"Come up with something. I was mugged... waiting at the bus stop. Two or three goons jumped me. They took my wallet."

"But this is your chance to tell the police and get some real help!"

"No!" Aaron sank back from the exertion. "Do that, and Sean is dead."

Haley stared into his teary eyes and nodded. "If you're absolutely sure."

Aaron now tried to move, and he didn't stop Haley from guiding him down to the street. He nearly fell over into her arms.

In minutes, the teenagers burst into the ER waiting room. "We need a doctor!" Haley yelled. "Right now!"

A nurse was talking to a patient who kept coughing. She looked up and frowned.

"Your cough can wait!" Haley told the patient. "My friend is dying!"

"Ma'am, I need you to hold on one moment," said the nurse.

Aaron sagged against Haley's shoulder. He was heaving for air, and blood spotted the floor under his face. Another nurse and an ER technician came running and caught hold of the terribly unsteady boy. They started taking a pulse, checking breathing, holding his head in-line.

"What happened?" asked the tech.

"We were waiting at the bus stop," said Haley, voice shaking. "Two big men came up and attacked my friend, beat him and took all his money. Do something, please!"

Two more ER medics rushed over with a stretcher and started laying Aaron down. The nurse turned to Haley with a clipboard and paper. "I need to get some more information from you, Miss..."

"Brooks. Haley Brooks. This is my friend Aaron Hotchner."

"Miss Brooks, you will probably have to make a police report. I have a few questions first."

Haley tried to listen to the nurse, follow the medics, and formulate an untraceable cover-up story at the same time. The medics were taking Aaron through the glass doors toward a treatment pod. A nurse strapped an oxygen mask over Aaron's face. One tech began cutting off Aaron's shirt, baring ghastly bruises and splotches of blood. Through it all, Aaron only stared straight at the ceiling and tried not to flinch. His lively face had become a blank line behind the mask.

"Miss Brooks, you need to stay here," the nurse said. "Can you tell me more about the attack? What did the men hit Mr. Hotchner with?"

Aaron was out of sight. Haley knew she had to do her part to help him by talking to the nurse. Now she could only stand there wishing she had prevented the whole thing.

"A tire iron," she said faintly. The images flashed through her mind again, and she sank into a waiting room chair. Planting a hand over both her eyes, she began weeping. This shouldn't have happened.

And to think Aaron was going into emergency treatment because he put Sean and Haley's safety above his own. _Aaron, why? Why do you have to be such a hero?_


	19. Chapter 19 -- Life or Death

_**As usual, my story is getting a little longer than planned. Bear with me!**_

—_**-**_

CHAPTER NINETEEN — Life or Death

—-

The next morning couldn't come soon enough. Mr. and Mrs. Brooks started to wonder where their older daughter kept running off to, but Haley assured them she was just seeing her friend who had been hospitalized for some non-specific injury. She knew Aaron wanted his secret kept, even with her family. She wanted to tell her mom and dad what was really going on, but she didn't want Aaron or Sean to get in even more trouble as a result.

Haley was in the Emergency Department before the sun had even broken above the cloudy horizon. Flora, the nurse who was looking after Aaron, finally allowed Haley to come back and visit him.

A bluish-green curtain partitioned Aaron's small bed from the rest of the ward. Machines and monitors hummed and beeped. A slow hiss ran through the nasal cannula that stretched across Aaron's half-bandaged face. He breathed slowly and deeply while shivering under a thin sheet.

Haley couldn't hold back her tears. She placed a small handful of hibiscus flowers into a glass at the bedside before sitting in the single plastic chair. Aaron's tired-looking eyes watched her sadly.

"How are you feeling?" whispered Haley.

"I don't know." His voice was sapped of all energy.

"What do you mean? Are you hurting?"

Aaron looked straight up at the ceiling. "Maybe. I don't want to talk about it."

They sat in silence for a minute. Haley wanted to hold him, to say something reassuring, but she couldn't move.

"What did you tell the police?" asked Aaron weakly.

"I said the men wore masks and we couldn't identify them. The police said they'd never before seen an M.O. like it for a simple on-the-street theft. Do you think they'll investigate?"

"Not for long. There are no leads."

"I think they suspected we're holding something back, especially when looking at your injuries."

"We have nothing more to tell them. They'll drop it eventually."

"Does your mother know what happened?"

Aaron shook his head faintly, eyes distant. "I can't stay here. I should be with Sean. Charles is going to get him."

"No, he's not. I did some checking and I found that Charles is in the oncology ward. I don't know the extent of his problem, but it seems he'll have to stay all day for some blood work."

At the news, Aaron relaxed a little and sank deeper into the pillow. "Thank you, God," he breathed, eyes closed.

"How long do you think you have to stay here?" Haley asked.

"Not long, I hope. I guess they did some sort of emergency surgery to stop the bleeding in my chest, and they have to make sure my ribs are stable before I can go."

Looking at him in the weakest condition she'd ever seen him, Haley didn't think he would be getting out anytime soon. It only made her sadder. She hoped she would never have to see him in this condition ever again.

"We're still in danger," he muttered. "I wish I could put the people I love into some sort of real protection. In some safe house far away with guards."

"But then we wouldn't see you, would we?"

"It would only last until Charles is really gone." His breath hitched and he groaned. "Oh, Haley. It hurts. What am I going to do?" His voice had become so quiet she had to lean close to hear.

"You'll be okay," she whispered, gently stroking his hair. "Don't lose your smile."

"With you I can't."

Soon Nurse Flora came back in. "Mr. Hotchner, I need to apply more antiseptic now. Do you want your friend to step out?"

Aaron closed his eyes briefly. "She can stay."

"Alright. Can you roll to your side?"

Aaron tried. Flora held a hand over his chest to steady his uneven breathing and helped him roll over to his side. Aaron grimaced at the effort. Flora opened the back of the white hospital gown and gently removed the strips of bandages from his many short welts and cuts. Haley saw Aaron's lip quiver and his eyes well up. She took his hand and leaned closer.

Then Flora poured hydrogen peroxide from a brown bottle onto a wad of gauze and started dabbing the wounds. Aaron's face squinted up and he started shaking hard. Big tears rolled over his nose, down his temple, and to the pillow. Haley held his hand even tighter, trying to hold herself together as he gradually fell apart.

Haley couldn't bear to see her friend so broken and vulnerable. She always thought of him as being so strong and heroic, even after all the times she had comforted him in his agony. Now, she realized, he needed her strength more than ever before. She struggled to hold back a sob.

Aaron, on the other hand, was losing the fight against a torrent of tears that washed the partially covered wounds on his face. His hand squeezed hers. As his eyes clenched shut even tighter, his self-control melted, and he began crying piteously. Haley wanted to strangle someone—Charles came to mind—at the sound.

Nurse Flora put a comforting hand on Aaron's shoulder as she worked. "I'm so sorry, son. I'll be finished soon."

Haley knew Aaron was crying about more than just the pain. She knew about the frustration and fear and sadness he carried pent-up inside, and she knew he needed a chance to let some of it out. She tried to think of something, anything she could do to make it easier for him. The words of an old song she had heard years ago came to mind, and she quietly began to sing for him.

"Under His wings, what a refuge in sorrow!

How the heart yearningly turns to His rest!

Often when earth has no balm for my healing,

There I find comfort and there I am blest."

Though his crying continued, Haley felt the slightest relaxation in his tight grip. He held her hand to his damp face and chokingly prayed, "God, if You're here, keep us safe. Get us through this."

He winced again at the treatment and wept harder into Haley's hand. All she could do was be there for him, and silently pray. _I don't really know if You're real, God, but if You are, please watch over the Hotchners._

"Under His wings, O what precious enjoyment!

There will I hide till life's trials are o'er;

Sheltered, protected, no evil can harm me,

Resting in Jesus I'm safe evermore."

—

A day later, Aaron sat on one end of the couch with a hand over his chest. His mother sat on the cushion farthest from him with Sean in her arms and her eyes glued to the soap opera on the fuzzy TV set. Aaron hadn't been home more than an hour, and his mother's lack of concern irritated him. She hadn't even asked where he'd been for a day and a half. When he told her Charles beat him so badly he had to go to the hospital, she dismissed him.

"Charles is gone. Don't bring him up again."

"But he came back, Mom. He wants to take Sean away."

"I told him to leave, and as far as I'm concerned, he's left. If he wants Sean, he can take it to court, but he'll lose."

"He doesn't care about that. He will come and take Sean whenever and however he feels like it."

"Aaron, I don't really know or care what you've been up to recently, but I don't appreciate you trying to cause more conflict in my house. Drop the subject."

"Sean is in danger."

"_You_ will be in a minute, if you don't shut up."

She then buried herself behind vodka and TV.

Now that Aaron was out of the hospital, he knew Charles was probably out too. He feared that the monster would burst in at any moment and take Sean while slaying Aaron and his mother. How could he protect them if she didn't listen to him?

Aaron started to think up a plan. It seemed crazy at first, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized what a necessary option it might be.

"Can I have something to eat?" he quietly asked.

Mother took a gulp from her bottle but did not answer.

So Aaron struggled to his feet and staggered to the kitchen with one hand on the wall for support. Simply breathing had become a difficult and conscious task. Moving around had become a herculean challenge. This might complicate his plan a little.

He looked through the cupboards and reviewed their contents. There were few options, and he focused on those that would last a little while outside of refrigeration. Then he located a box of powdered baby formula and a bottle of water. Perfect.

Holding off on his plan for now, Aaron peeled open a can of tuna and ate the unseasoned chunk of meat straight out of the can. He had barely finished licking the can clean when the phone on the counter rang.

He glanced over into the living area. Mother hadn't budged. "I'll get it," he called.

He picked up the phone and said, "Hotchner residence."

Low, steady breathing almost tickled his ear. "Back home, are you?"

Aaron's chest clenched. "What do you want?" Suddenly, he felt braver talking to Charles over the phone than in person.

"You know what I want. Now put your mother on, you brat."

Aaron glanced again at the motionless mother and baby on the couch. He turned away and lowered his voice. "You can't have what you want. Go away and leave us alone, or I will certainly call the police on you."

"You don't make threats to me, boy."

"You won't take Sean."

"I'll make you a deal. You and your worthless mother hand that baby over without police or courts, and I will never come to your house again."

Aaron glared at the wall, fingers tightening around the phone. Surrendering would end badly for everyone. He didn't expect this monster to hold to his deal, and besides, he would be a dreadful father to Sean.

Adapting a deeper, stoic tone quite unlike the pinched, fearful voice he normally used around Charles, Aaron stated, "I don't make deals. I'm the guy who stops guys like you."

He could hear Charles' intake of breath and knew a retort was coming, but he didn't wait for it. Aaron slammed the phone back into the cradle with a little more force than he intended. Thrilled and amazed that he got the last word, he stared down the phone and reviewed his options.

The phone rang again a minute later, startling him. He snatched it up and said in a low tone: "Charles."

"Aaron?" Haley's voice.

"Oh, Haley. What's up?"

"I'm sorry, I know you said never to call your home..."

"It's okay. What's going on?"

"I just called to check on you. I wanted to stop by, see if you needed anything, but I knew you'd rather I called first."

"I appreciate that. I don't need anything right now, but..." He glanced again over his shoulder at his mother. "If you'd like to come by, I'd love to see you."

"Is it safe?"

"Can you come at ten? Just tell your folks you're going to hang out late."

"That's probably manageable. Is everything alright?"

"We'll see. Haley, would you mind bringing a few nonperishable snacks?"

"Uh, sure."

"Okay. See you tonight."

Soon Aaron staggered back to the living area. He saw Sean squirming in Mother's lap and wondered what he could possibly do to protect that infant.

"Can I take the baby?" he asked softly. "Just to look after him for a minute?"

Mother looked up with a hazy glare. "If your face wasn't already so messed up, I'd smack you with this bottle."

Aaron sighed and sat back down on the further end of the couch. He had to make a life or death decision, and his plan became solid. He would have to act tonight.

—-

_**Featured hymn, "Under His Wings" by William O. Cushing, is public domain.**_


	20. Chapter 20 -- Mom's Way or the Highway

CHAPTER TWENTY - Mom's Way or the Highway

—

Aaron waited outside his mother's closed bedroom door until he heard her steadily snoring. It was already 9:52 p.m. Tightly clinging to the rail and forcing himself to take deep breaths, he crept back downstairs with Sean's diaper bag, which he had retrieved from his old bedroom. Since Charles' departure, Aaron had ventured back into his room in hopes of sleeping there like a normal kid. However, in his absence, Mother had set up the portable crib beside his bed and converted the room into an impromptu nursery. This didn't really bother him as much as it maybe should have.

Downstairs, Aaron stuffed all the packaged cheese, crackers, raisins, and canned spam he could find into Sean's diaper bag alongside the baby care products. He also crammed the baby formula and bottled water into the remaining space. Finally, he grabbed a flashlight, a folding kitchen knife, and the tube of Neosporin he'd been given for his wounds.

A tentative knock came from the front door. Aaron looked out the window before letting Haley in. She wore a green overcoat and carried a plastic grocery bag containing peanuts and salami.

"You okay?" she whispered.

"Fine. How's the weather?"

"Cold and rainy."

"Rats."

Haley looked around the empty house, frowning. "Where's your mom?"

"Asleep."

"And Charles?"

"Haven't seen him yet."

Aaron noticed that Haley didn't look directly at him. She looked at his tattered sneakers, at the flickering living room lamp, at the overstuffed diaper bag on the kitchen table. Then she quickly looked away from the kitchen and found something else for her gaze to wander upon. She couldn't meet his eye, and Aaron began to realize why. With all he had been through over the last few days, she had been there too—watching helplessly as Charles tied him to the table and whipped trails of skin from his back, taking up a weapon to keep the man from smashing Aaron's skull in, and finally letting Aaron use her hand as a tissue during the longest and most agonizing hospital stay of his life. Reviewing the painful events in his mind, Aaron found that he too had trouble looking at Haley. He hoped that so many raw emotional experiences would not end up driving them apart. Then again, how many ordinary high schoolers had to fight for their lives or were forced to witness their friends take a near-fatal beating? Could they ever really adjust to the jarring reality of their situation and the high stakes of their relationship?

He also hoped that Haley didn't think he resented her for not stepping in for him sooner. He was simply amazed and grateful that she acted as she did. He longed to tell her what he really thought: _You're so strong, Haley. You're stronger than I ever was._

Awkwardly shrinking away in the lack of conversation, Aaron added Haley's groceries into the diaper bag and then began rolling up the quilt that usually lay draped over the back of the couch.

Now Haley watched him curiously. "What are you doing?"

"Sean and I have to run away. Otherwise Charles will kill us or Mom will neglect us to death."

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know. Arlington, maybe. Or Quantico. I don't know which is closer."

"Okay." She didn't question his decision like he feared she would. "Dad keeps a road atlas in the truck."

"Will you come with me, at least until I figure out where I'm going?"

"Of course."

"What did you tell your dad?"

"I said I was visiting you and might hang out for awhile. Don't worry. I'll call him once you find a safe place to stay."

"You know, you don't have to do this if you don't want to. I can walk out of here."

Haley gave him a bemused stare. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Okay. Thank you."

While Aaron finished packing the necessities, Haley went upstairs to retrieve Sean. The baby snoozed against her shoulder as she carried him down.

"You're sure you can get away with this?" Aaron asked, worried about what her parents would say.

"No worries. I can explain to my folks. Besides, I've always been curious to see Quantico."

"Me too."

_I took Sean to protect him. -Aaron,_ read the note he slipped under his mom's door. Then he carried the bag outside to the truck without looking back. Haley transferred the baby to his arms, and the three of them settled into the vehicle.

"Why didn't you run away sooner?" Haley asked as she drove.

"I don't know. I always thought I could handle anything until now. I know Charles will come back for Sean, and he won't go so easy next time."

"Have you thought of what you'll do when you get to... wherever?"

"Let's go with Quantico. And no, I haven't figured out the details. Maybe I'll get a job and wait for Charles to forget about us."

"You'll write me?"

"Everyday."

Neither youngster even considered how wild and risky the scheme actually was. All they could think about was never getting hurt or ignored again. That desire alone drove them with oversized dreams and half a tank of fuel all the way to the town's exit road.

Rain beat steadily on the windows and hood. Haley huddled against the wheel, straining to see the road and work the wipers into a brisk pace. Twilight had deepened into night, and only the increasingly rare streetlamp shined off of the streaks of water pooling on the glass and street. Thick trees on either side of the road only made the darkness denser. The truck's headlights accomplished little other than turning the sheet of raindrops into a screen of glimmering diamonds. Haley tuned the radio to news at a low volume, and they listened for any announcements regarding change in weather.

"How far is Quantico?" asked Haley.

Cradling Sean in one arm, Aaron squinted at the road map. He gripped his mother's small kitchen flashlight between his teeth and tried to make sense of the markers. His jaw soon ached, still throbbing from the iron assault. With one tooth already knocked loose by Charles, he quickly had to stop putting pressure on the rest.

Clicking off the flashlight, Aaron shook his head. "Can't say for sure, but I think it's only about ten miles." He wished he had checked before they left.

"That's it? Oh, good. We can find you a motel when we get there."

Aaron silently agreed, wondering how in the world he would pay for such a thing. Maybe some planning ahead would have been a good idea.

Aaron and Haley shared a few peanuts while she drove, and Sean dozed. Aaron tried not to think too much about the challenges ahead.

"Haley."

"Yeah."

"I just want to say, thank you for being with me in the hospital. It meant a lot."

Haley blinked, clearly remembering the emotional scene. "Of course. And Aaron, I'm sorry I didn't stop your stepfather sooner."

"Don't be sorry. He would have just turned on you."

With that out of the way, they talked about other areas of interest for another five minutes. Sean stirred once or twice, but Aaron rocked him in his arms back to sleep. Every movement tore at his ribs and back, but he had decided long ago to hide the pain. Though he appreciated Haley's concern, he was tired of being so emotionally vulnerable around her. If he didn't start building a shield now, he might never be strong in her presence, or so he thought.

Somewhere along the seventh mile, the truck began making uneasy, sputtering sounds. Haley insisted they push on, though the vehicle jerked a bit and continued spitting worrisome noises.

By the time the truck reached the cover of a highway overpass, Haley slowed it considerably. Something clunked in the engine.

Aaron sat straight up. "What was that?"

"I can't be sure." Haley frowned and pulled over off the road. Rain carried by the wind still swept over the truck, but most of the downpour was blocked by the bridge above.

"I can check," offered Aaron.

"No, stay here with Sean." Haley left the truck stalling and climbed out to examine the exterior with the flashlight. Aaron held the baby close, wishing he didn't feel so useless.

Haley hopped back inside a minute later.

"Well?" asked Aaron.

"I need to turn off the engine." She removed the key and went outside to pop the hood open.

Aaron waited anxiously. Sean woke up with a whimper and began squirming in his lap, so Aaron fed him a pacifier and tried to keep the blanket wrapped around him. When Haley returned, she looked nervous and worried.

"Dad's gonna kill me," she muttered.

"What?" Aaron realized a second later that she was just using an expression. He was so used to realistically fearing the sentiment expressed in her flippant statement.

"The fan belt broke and tangled in some engine parts. I can't risk starting the ignition again."

Aaron paled at the very start of her sentence. He already had dreadful associations with fan belts. Could this get any worse?

He asked her to shine the light on the map and tried to read the tiny numbers. "Quantico's only two miles away. Do you think we could walk?"

"This late at night? We'd be safer standing on a busy railroad track all day."

"We can't stay here."

"I know. I've got to call my parents soon, or they'll send the whole Army after me."

Aaron didn't expect the stab of jealousy that suddenly tore through his gut. It didn't usually bother him that Haley's parents were so much more caring than his, but now he unexpectedly envied their concern. When he half-heartedly fantasized about running away as a child, just for the adventure, he always knew his parents loved him too much to let him get away with it. He knew his father in particular would be heartbroken if he never returned. Now... His mother would probably wake up thrilled to find him gone.

They sat a minute in stunned silence.

"Well, now what?" asked Haley.

"I guess we'll have to spend the night here," Aaron suggested quietly. "In the morning, we can walk to Quantico and find a towing company. Then you can call your folks."

Sean began to cry, and Aaron searched for the pacifier the baby had spat into the folds of the blanket.

"Well, on the positive side," said Haley over the baby's cries, "Charles will never find you here."

Aaron nodded grimly. Sean would not calm down.

"This was a mistake," said Aaron. "I'm sorry I got you involved."

"No worries. I'm glad you two aren't alone out here. Can you imagine if you had tried to walk to Quantico?"

He would have happily taken that alternative, even if he had to huddle alone with the baby under the bridge in several inches of mud. "Yes. You would still be in your warm home with your family."

Haley looked at him crossly. "Well, I'm not sorry. Don't try to get rid of me now, Aaron."

He wanted to admire her steadfast support, but now it seemed foolhardy. Aaron held Sean close. Perhaps the only good thing to come of this was the baby's life and freedom. He forced himself to focus on that and hold off the negatives until later.

Haley sighed. "Let me take Sean. It's the least I can do."

Aaron surrendered the wailing infant, secretly grateful to get the pressure off his screaming ribs. Now with the burden removed, everything ached afresh. He furtively grabbed his tube of Neosporin.

Haley took the diaper bag in her free hand. "I'm going to change him. Be right back."

As she got out and laid the baby on the flat, roomy hood of the truck, Aaron reached quickly under his shirt to apply the ointment. The doctor had taped some bandages to his chest to keep his three broken ribs in place, but many uncovered areas still blazed with hemorrhaging wounds. It was more difficult reaching the raised marks and broken skin on his back. He thought of asking Haley for help, but no, he decided she didn't need to see any more of his vulnerabilities than she'd already been exposed to. He had been humiliated plenty in her presence and still lamented his inability to pay back her kindness.

Aaron was just rubbing more ointment into his battered face when Haley returned with a quiet but shivering baby. "You alright?" she asked timidly.

"Just fine." _No pity, please._

"Well, if we're going to stay here all night, we might as well get some sleep," Haley stated once she had wrapped Sean in the quilt.

Aaron agreed, wondering if he would ever make it to Quantico, and what Haley's parents would say when she finally contacted them. He realized he could never again get Haley mixed up in _his_ problems. Though it meant distancing her, he had to keep her safe.

Rain continued drizzling at both ends of the overpass. Aaron felt thankful for the shelter, but he still worried about how they would survive stranded in the dark somewhere between cities. Lone vehicles with headlights burning through the rain passed by only occasionally, and he didn't want any of them stopping to check on the motionless truck on the gravel beside the road.

Aaron ensured that every door and window was closed and locked, then encouraged Haley to keep out of sight under the dashboard on the driver's side. There she huddled with the softly crying baby wrapped in her arms, while Aaron crouched under the dashboard on the passenger side. In the dead of night, they fought against tentacles of cold that turned their fingers blue and iced the air they choked in. Aaron wished he had brought along an additional blanket, but at very least Sean was bundled up.

Unable to shush Sean's tears away, Haley began to softly sing a melody from "The Pirates of Penzance:"

"Oh, dry the glistening tear

That dews that martial cheek;

Thy loving children hear,

In them thy comfort seek.

With sympathetic care

Their arms around thee creep,

For oh, they cannot bear

To see their father weep!"

Aaron listened in silence, remembering the pure delight he experienced meeting Haley onstage for the first time. He remembered hiding backstage listening to her first rehearsal of that pretty song, and getting choked up at the simple beauty of her voice. He never thought he deserved to be with someone so full of inward and outward beauty. Now here she was, helping him yet again, gently soothing his baby brother to sleep and protecting him against the cold like a good mother. Aaron didn't know why, or how, but he knew that he and Sean had been truly blessed.

Though he tried to stay awake to keep watch, Aaron drifted off within an hour and dreamed about the clumsy Pirate #4 sailing away with Mabel and a baby pirate, escaping the swords of a truly treacherous sea captain, and trying in vain to reach that distant island of Quantico.

—

Charles found the Hotchner house as silent as it was dark. He retrieved a knife from the kitchen before creeping silently up the stairs. Trying not to cough from the squeezing pain in his chest, he pushed open the door to his most recent wife's room.

In the thick shadows, he couldn't recognize the blocky shapes in the room. But he still knew the layout and felt his way around pieces of furniture, piles of clothes, and abandoned rubbish. He couldn't find the crib anywhere.

Charles paused over the bed, where couldn't quite see but could hear Mrs. Hotchner breathing steadily. He reached for her face and felt her tangled hair. What drew him to this woman in the first place? Did he really think she would provide a bright spot in his swamp of addiction, anger, and illness? Well, she failed him, just like the seven other wives and girlfriends before her. Deeply, honestly, Charles wanted to escape his lifestyle, but he didn't know anything else. This woman was just as worthless as the rest to him, and he was already planning his next attempt at a family with a girl who wasn't already a mother.

Now where was that baby? Charles didn't want the brat, really, but he knew the next woman would be more sympathetic to his plight if he had a sad baby to care for. Then he could leave the kid in her care and sit back as the welfare checks rolled in. Then he wouldn't have to work so hard to support his Marlboro commitment, his wild nights out, and his increasingly frequent cancer treatments.

Charles moved back out of the room and crossed the hall to the horrible boy's room. He hadn't seen that skinny, ugly rebel enter this room in months, but if he found him tonight, he would surely silence him forever. Holding the knife down beside his leg, Charles flipped on the light. He saw an empty, dusty bed and a portable crib. He dove for the crib but only found a frog-shaped teether on the thin mattress.

_Aaron!_

The brat had taken his baby! Charles turned and hurried downstairs. He should have killed the boy when he had the chance. He thought about Aaron's audacity over the phone, and he only got angrier. All he could think about was how much he wished he had never stopped beating him, and that he had killed his stupid girlfriend as well.

Unable to find the boys on the ground floor, Charles ventured into the basement and flicked on the bare lightbulb above the clutter. "Aaron! You're dead!"

They were nowhere to be found. Charles knocked boxes around and looked around shelves, but found no children.

He needed several minutes to calm down. His lungs blazed again. Finally catching his breath, Charles trudged upstairs and sat on the couch, where he sat stroking his knee with his knife. He had to reevaluate his strategy now.

Quietly cursing the Hotchner boy, Charles relaxed and waited the rest of the night for the woman to wake up.

—

_**PLEASE, Please, please review! It keeps me motivated and/or helps me know what to improve upon. If you have a minute, whatever you have to say—good, bad, so-so—please share! Thank you! :)**_

_**(Lucky for me, "Pirates of Penzance" songs and lyrics by W.S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan are public domain!)**_


	21. Chapter 21 -- The Freedom of the Future

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE — The Freedom of the Future

—-

Aaron woke up feeling stiffer and colder than ever, and yet somehow refreshed. He hadn't slept so peacefully in ages. No crashes or shouts or hurting hands yanked him from his dreams all night.

He pulled himself up onto the seat and grabbed a couple Altoids from the tin in the glove compartment. Chewing them slowly, he looked at the sleeping girl and the slumbering baby under the steering wheel. Safe.

It occurred to him how truly beautiful life was, a thought he had never had before. Despite everyone who hated and abused him, he was blessed with having someone to really love. Even with the pain and discomfort he always wore like an extra shirt, he was living and breathing and had something to fight for. Surprisingly, he felt happy. It was the first time he really thought about how wonderful life could be.

He also realized how very, very pretty Haley looked when she slept, even with her hair a mess. So pretty, in fact, that he forced himself to stop looking. He had chosen to respect her purity, and that didn't mean staring lustfully at her while she slept. He hadn't realized how much he wanted to touch her until that moment. Consciously, he had to redirect his gaze before the urge took over. Out of love and respect for her, he closed his eyes.

_I respect you for who you _are_, Haley. Not for how you look or how you make me feel. I hope you know that._

Purposely distracting himself, Aaron looked around at the damp, empty street beyond the windshield. Now in the early morning hours, he could make out the endless expanse of road disappearing into the sunrise. The clouds, in addition to the grassy slopes on either side of the bridge and the concrete pillars supporting the street, blocked half the light, but the rays that filtered through sparkled on the asphalt for many miles. Leftover rain dripped in waxy rivulets from the sides of the street above. Aaron could see collected raindrops as well as dead leaves falling from the bushy lining of trees behind the guardrails. The world around him was really very wet and gray and cold, but in this moment of freedom, it looked beautiful. Stunning even.

Cheered despite the gloom, Aaron began whistling his favorite Beatles tune as he prepared a bottle of Sean's baby formula. Starving, he snacked a little as he worked, and this morning, even the spam tasted good.

Normally at this time of day, Aaron would be sneaking around the house getting ready for school. He hunched over so often as he hurried for cover, his shoulders had become stiffly bent forward. Today, nobody was belting him for turning on the kitchen light before 6 a.m, so today he focused on sitting up straight and keeping his spine in-line. It hurt like heck to straighten his back out, but once he accomplished the feat, he felt a bit better and a lot prouder.

Sean woke up before Haley did, and Aaron silently changed and fed him. When Haley finally emerged from her deep sleep, Aaron was bouncing Sean on his knee and quietly singing the chorus to "We All Live in a Yellow Submarine." Sean laughed in bubbly shrieks. A happy laugh was about as rare coming from Sean as it was coming from Aaron, and he smiled along with the baby.

"Good morning," said Aaron when he noticed Haley blinking up at him.

Haley's hands went to her head and her eyes went wide. "Oh my gosh!" she gasped in a scratchy voice. "Don't look at me! I haven't washed or brushed my hair yet."

Aaron stifled a laugh. "Don't worry. You look wonderful."

Haley crawled up into the driver's seat, a little unsteady with sleepiness, and glanced in the rearview mirror. Immediately she gave Aaron a light smack in the arm. "You lied, Aaron! I look like my hair's been through a tornado!"

Aaron laughed so hard his ribs jabbed him in protest. Haley feistily fixed her hair with her hands while both Hotchner boys tried to hide their giggles. Aaron could tell she wasn't a morning person.

"I wonder how I would look as a brunette," Haley muttered, examining her reflection. When she was finally satisfied with her appearance, she leaned back and sighed. "Good morning, Aaron. Looks like we're still stuck on the highway."

"Yeah, but Quantico is only a two-mile walk away. I'm ready to go once you've had some breakfast."

"Breakfast," Haley groaned.

"Spam or salami?"

Haley groaned again and closed her eyes. "I think I'll just sleep for another half hour, if you don't mind."

"Take your time."

Her eyes snapped open. "Really?"

"Yeah, I've got the rest of my life to make it to Quantico."

Haley sighed deeply. "That may be true for you, but I owe my parents a call."

Reluctantly, Haley shared in the breakfast of raisins, crackers, and processed meat. When she had finished eating and grumbling, the trio collected their gear, climbed out of the truck, and locked it up completely. They started with Haley carrying the diaper bag and Aaron carrying the baby, but they would exchange loads several times during the long, chilly walk.

The occasional vehicles that sailed down the road mostly ignored the young travelers. At one point, a bright green minivan honked at them, but its stoned passengers only smiled and waved uselessly as it passed. A motorcyclist cast them a glare but didn't even slow down. One produce truck did slow almost to a stop, and the driver hollered, "You young honeymooners need a ride?"

"No, thanks," replied Aaron, and the truck's wheels spattered them with mud as it sped away.

"Why couldn't we take a ride?" Haley panted, barely able to support the bag hanging from her shoulder.

"Because he's more to likely strangle us and leave us in a ditch."

"Well, that's morbid! Don't you trust anybody?"

"With your life, and Sean's? No."

Over an hour later, the tree line on the horizon thickened. Haley pointed out the peaks of rooftops. Soon a big, stately sign greeted them: "Welcome to the Town of Quantico."

_I never thought I'd make it this far._

Aaron's first step into the town of Quantico sent a trembling thrill up his spine. All the coldness and exhaustion became ignorable. To him, this journey had come to mean more than just a way of keeping Sean safe. This journey marked the pinnacle of his struggle to escape his mother's control. Making it this far, he found renewed hope that he might actually beat the odds and make something out of his life.

As they walked slowly down the main street, Aaron gazed in awe at the old buildings and contemplated options he had never dreamed of before. He thought about attending a university and studying in a fine old town like this one. He thought about working his way up to a worthwhile career that wouldn't restrict him to one city forever. The ideas were daring and exhilarating.

He remembered the last time he'd dared to consider his future. All it took was one small mention of law school, a silly dream to follow in his father's footsteps, and Mother finished the discussion with a flying belt buckle.

"You couldn't work on a _pig farm_, much less at a highly skilled job!" she snapped. "You'll never be your father, and I'm not paying for you to try!"

Several biting blows convinced him to defy his mother's expectations, but she wasn't finished yet.

"You have no money. You'll never leave this house! Someday I'll be dying, but you'll stay here to look after me. Won't you, Aaron?"

How could he argue with a swift, leather-mounted square of metal? Aaron had quickly agreed.

She had then grabbed him by the hair and forced him to stand up, shaking and bleeding and completely under her control. Aaron had stared straight ahead as she whispered in his ear: "You'll die before you leave me."

Aaron could hardly see through the blood trickling in his eye, but he made no move to clear it. He had simply stared, thinking up how he would get as far from Mother as possible the minute he graduated. If he ever graduated. But in the back of his mind, a nagging weight tethered him down. Was his mother right, that he would never amount to anything and never be able to leave home? Would he be doomed to act as her slave forever?

To make sure he got the message, Mother had then tossed him to Charles, who went all UFC on him until he got bored. Aaron had not thought or spoken of his future ever since. Clearly, he had no future.

Now, running away to Quantico made him reconsider the demands that had been pounded into him. Mother hadn't stopped him from leaving the house and finding a solution to a problem on his own. Maybe she couldn't stop him if he someday chose to go further.

The youths finally stopped at a gas station where they asked for the nearest towing company. Haley also asked to use the phone, and the clerk showed her to the outdoor payphone beside the restrooms at the back of the store. Aaron sat inside on a hard bench with the bag and the baby, scanning the magazine racks, listening to the corny 70's music, and waiting for his friend to return. Haley was on the phone for nearly thirty minutes and must have used up much of her change. If he'd known she would be so long, he would have gone out with her and listened in.

Haley returned, looking somewhere between guilty and vexed.

"Everything okay?" asked Aaron.

"Oh, sure. I might get grounded till graduation, but that's no big deal, right?"

_No big deal at all,_ thought Aaron, _compared to what I might face._

"What did you say to your parents?" he asked.

"Just that you needed to be driven to another town and the truck broke down halfway."

"So you didn't tell 'em why?"

"No, I didn't. I'm sure I'll have to explain more when I get home."

"I can help explain if you like."

"Never mind that. Let's get to the towing company."

"I'd better call my mom first."

"Why?"

"I've got to let her know Sean is okay before she sends the police looking for us."

Leaving Sean with Haley, Aaron took a borrowed quarter to the phone outside. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the receiver.

"Who is this?" Mother's rough voice came through loud and clear.

"Mom, it's... it's Aaron."

"Where the #&amp;!* are you, Aaron? And where is my baby? If anything happens to him, I will kill you with my bare hands!"

"We're okay. We... Sean is safe and well."

"How dare you run away, and take my baby too! Come back home right now, you little—" She proceeded to call him every nasty and obscene word that he knew existed, and many more besides. When she finished her bluestreak, Aaron felt surprisingly shaken. He felt like he had taken a beating over the phone, and it debilitated him just as blows would have.

_You're not with her. She can't touch you,_ he reminded himself.

"You have to understand," he said quietly. "I took Sean to protect him. I knew that Charles would come again and snatch him away."

"You idiot! Charles is here right now! He came asking after you boys, concerned with what he could do to help you."

Aaron stared. "Did he tell you what he wants with the baby?"

"Would you believe he offered to help raise Sean! The poor man only wants to help, and you've denied him that privilege."

"I... I can't believe you think he's sincere."

Mother swore at him again, making him cringe.

"He's a changed man, Aaron. He broke up with his lover and is even going to quit smoking today. The least we can do for him is let him see his son!"

Now Aaron felt angry that Mother was so gullible and that Charles had deceived her so thoroughly. "Mom, he doesn't care about Sean, or any of us. You saw him threaten Sean with a knife. Just a few days ago, he came to kidnap Sean for financial purposes, and he beat me severely when he couldn't find my brother."

"I would have done the same thing. If I don't see you and that baby on my doorstep in the next hour, I am going to have the police hunt you down with all their guns and dogs. And this time they'll never let you out of jail."

Aaron couldn't be sure whether or not she would act on that threat. "Sean is safe," he repeated. "I won't let anything happen to him."

His mother started yelling again, but then suddenly the line cut off. Aaron heard the pre-recorded voice asking for more money to continue the call, but he chose to hang up instead. He stood there for another moment, collecting his senses and shaking the ill feeling Mother had left with him. With a deep sigh, he headed back inside to rejoin his friend and his brother.

Haley looked up as he approached. "All okay?"

"Hardly. Let's get going."

They walked two blocks to the towing service. Aaron allowed the small town's charm to distract him from thinking about the phone call. He kept looking up and down the street as they walked, wary of everyone but also fascinated by everything. Suddenly he glimpsed a familiar face across the road. Was that Agent Rossi of the FBI getting into a black car? It couldn't be...

Containing his excitement about the brand new sights, Aaron followed Haley and Sean into the towing company building. The manager at the desk took pity on them, probably because of the baby, and began asking details about their truck's location.

"You must be pretty far from home," commented the man when Haley told him what city they needed the truck towed to.

"Yes, a little bit."

"Well, how about I give you kids a ride back home? Might as well if I'm headed that way with your vehicle."

Haley thanked him, then looked back at Aaron. Aaron bit his lip, afraid his escapade was coming to a close. While the man worked out some details back in the garage, Haley stepped closer to Aaron.

"Are you coming home, too?" she asked.

Aaron sighed. "Do I have a choice?"

"We can find you a place to stay. You can still hide out with Sean."

Aaron shook his head. "I need to help explain to your parents. Sean and I can then stay at a homeless shelter until we figure something else out."

"But my family would be happy to—"

"No. I appreciate it, Haley, but you've done enough for me. I need to figure this out on my own so you're not placed in any danger. Besides, I wouldn't have much luck starting out in a different town. Nobody's going to give me a job here."

"Didn't you think about that earlier?"

"Afraid not. I wasn't thinking very clearly. Too many blows to the head, I suppose."

Haley cringed.

"I'm glad I could get away for a little while, but I can't stay. I'll just keep clear of my mother and Charles, and it will be fine. Someday I'd like to return to Quantico, for sure, but it won't be today. Besides, I can't just let you ride home alone with a strange man."

"Alright, Aaron, you crazy protector."

"Hey, I don't need any goofy title."

"Hyperalert babysitter."

"Cut it out."

"Special supervisor."

He shrugged. That one didn't sound so bad.


	22. Chapter 22 -- No Place Like Home

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO — No Place Like Home

—

"I don't know which one of you I should be more upset with," Mr. Brooks calmly told the teenagers on his front porch. His wife stood with crossed arms at his side, and Jessica was most likely listening inside the screen door. Haley frowned at the thought.

The tow truck driver from Quantico had dropped the kids off at the Brooks', discussed the repairs with Haley's dad, and then gone on to take the truck to the shop. While Aaron had been over-cautious during the trip home, Haley felt very grateful that they had found such a considerate and honest driver.

Aaron now struggled to hold the squirming baby as he quickly said, "It was my fault, sir. I encouraged Haley to come with me." His self-blame seemed automatic.

"Why did you run away from home, Hotchner?" Beneath his low tone, Mr. Brooks seemed almost amused.

"I've been, uh, having a hard time with my parents. We needed some space."

"Is that all?"

"That... that's the main problem. We just got fed up with each other."

Haley's heart ached to see her friend take responsibility and yet be unable to tell the whole story. She wasn't sure at this point if he held back the truth to protect himself and his brother, or if he was simply too ashamed to disclose all the facts.

"So why did you take your brother along?" asked Mr. Brooks.

"To give my folks a break, I guess."

Mr. Brooks gazed very sternly at Aaron for another minute. Haley always shrunk under his stare, but Aaron maintained his calm very well.

"Is there something more I should know about?" asked Mr. Brooks.

"Only that I'm sorry I got your daughter involved and that your truck broke down. If you like, I can work extra hours and pay for all the damage."

"That won't be necessary. You'd best hurry home, Hotchner, before I call your parents myself. Do you need a ride?"

"I can walk. It's not far."

"Be careful with that baby," said Mrs. Brooks, who had been watching the conversation intently.

"Yes, ma'am. And please, don't be too hard on Haley. It was my fault." With that, Aaron slowly turned and walked away down the sidewalk with Sean in his arms and the diaper bag hanging from one shoulder. Haley couldn't imagine the amount of pain he must be hiding from all that weight on his injuries.

She watched him until he took a right at the end of the street and disappeared behind the next row of houses. She knew he wasn't going home and hoped he wouldn't get caught.

"Haley," said her mother. "You really love that boy, don't you?"

"Yes, I do, Mom." Haley sighed and followed her parents inside. Jessica was on the couch with a magazine, not eavesdropping as Haley feared. Of course, _now_ she looked interested. Lucky for Haley, she and her parents went to the study, out of earshot.

Mr. Brooks shook his head and chuckled. "I was once a teenager in love, and you know what? I never snuck out late at night behind my parents' backs. In fact, I _waited_ until marriage."

Haley's eyes went wide. "Dad! You think that Aaron and I— You think we're making everything up to cover for ourselves? You actually think that we were out... making love!" She was so flustered, she could hardly speak from there.

"Were you?"

"No! Aaron and I promised each other we'd wait. But that's completely beside the point. All that happened last night... I was just going to drive him to another city, then come right back. If the truck hadn't broken down, I would have been back before midnight."

She could tell by her parents' eyes that they believed her, and yet they probed for the hidden details.

Her mother spoke up. "What could be so urgent that your friend needed _you_ to drive him out of town without even telling your family what was happening?"

Haley sighed, realizing she had no choice but to divulge a most carefully guarded secret. "He doesn't want me to tell anyone, but I really think you should know. Aaron's been having some serious troubles at home."

"So he is a bad boy?" Mr. Brooks scowled.

"Not at all. He's... um, he's not treated well."

Now her mother looked doubly attentive. "What do you mean?"

"I mean his parents hate him. They make life hard for him, and he wanted to run away to protect his baby brother."

Neither adult spoke. Now she wasn't sure if they believed her.

"Can you explain that a little better?" asked Mr. Brooks.

Haley felt she would explode if she didn't explain the whole truth in tragic detail. But perhaps if she told her parents, they would tell the police, the police would bother the Hotchners, and Aaron's mom and stepfather would retaliate horribly on the boys. Haley now realized what a necessary weight Aaron's secrecy was.

"I don't know all the details. I just know they make him feel worthless, and he wanted to escape for awhile."

"Haley," said her mom, "just what are you saying? Do they hurt him?"

Haley swallowed. "Maybe."

"Because if they do, you would have made a police complaint, not harbored him away."

Haley nodded. "Of course."

Mr. Brooks shook his head again and looked at his wife. "What do you make of this?"

"I don't know, Roy." She then faced her daughter. "Haley, I know there's more to this, and I expect you to tell us the details when you're ready."

"I know," said Haley. "Just please don't blame Aaron. He's really having a hard time."

Mr. Brooks sighed. "Well, I'll call the Hotchner home later and see what they have to say. For now, let's get back to the store."

Haley winced a little. She hoped she hadn't endangered her friend, and yet she wondered if she should have done more.

—-

Aaron had turned in the direction opposite his home. He didn't really know if he would find any homeless shelters in town, but perhaps he could stay at a church or school. He must have been a strange sight—a badly bruised teenage boy with a duffel bag and a baby, walking aimlessly past storefronts and pedestrians. When he sat down on at a bus stop to rest, an older lady passing by sympathetically tossed him a dollar coin. Aaron contemplated but quickly abandoned the idea of sitting there with a cardboard sign.

He was very familiar with his hometown from exploring it with his father years ago. Still, he wished he had stayed in Quantico where Mother was less likely to find him.

He started following a thin, languishing stream that ran through a ditch beside the sidewalk. The stream turned out to be rain drainage that washed away through a hole under the street, and it led Aaron to a high school near a mobile home neighborhood. He thought about going inside and asking for a place to stay, but a closer look at the seedy location encouraged him to move on.

Beyond a wire fence around the school yard, a small cluster of kids decked out in counterculture paraphernalia and punk hairdos sat on a picnic table smoking. Aaron could smell the weed from a block away. He could also hear the low, eerie beat of Soft Cell's "Tainted Love" grinding from the radio on the bench. He tried to hurry past without drawing too much attention.

One of the lanky boys wearing a blue mohawk and cheap bling shouted, "Hey, want some dope? Ditch the rug rat and hang with us."

Aaron perfected his hard glare and walked silently on. He was scared but didn't show it. Thankfully, no one came after him. He was clearly in a part of town that required extra vigilance, and he glanced warily in every direction as he tried to find his way back to the middle of the city.

But the further he went, the deeper he got into the high-crime area. He saw a couple gangbangers with identifying tattoos standing beside their bikes outside a coffee house. Aaron couldn't tell if they were watching him behind those sunglasses, but he avoided their gaze all the same. He also saw homeless people huddled behind stuffed grocery bags and layers of winter clothes, and he saw a few provocatively dressed women standing on street corners and eying him with bewilderment. A police siren wailed down the next block, and Aaron stepped out of plain view into a doorway. He _had_ to get Sean out of the open and out of this area as soon as possible. But at the same time, Aaron was fascinated by this area where the crime rate soared. He saw the people, some just getting by, some living off crime, and others caught in the middle, and his heart went out to them. He wondered if there was anything he could do to help them. Maybe someday.

Finally Aaron took the right turn and was headed in the direction of the main street. He had remembered something he'd read in his father's law books about the "safe haven law" and focused his search on finding a church or hospital. Soon he passed a six-story bank and saw a hospital around the corner, the same one where he recuperated after his most brutal beating.

By this time, Sean had dozed against his brother's shoulder, and Aaron shifted the baby's weight in an attempt to ease his own breathing. He didn't want to be recognized by hospital staff, but maybe he could find a nice nurse who would let him and Sean stay the night in the waiting room.

Suddenly he stopped. An unmistakeable station wagon was pulling out of the hospital's main parking lot, and Aaron stepped backwards in terror. Sean woke with a start, as if he too realized something was wrong, but Aaron shushed him and turned back toward the bank.

A horn blared at him. Aaron tossed the bag aside and hugged Sean to his chest as he broke into a run. Of all the paths in the whole city, why did he have to cross the same path as that car?

"Hang on," Aaron told the baby, though it didn't really matter what Sean did. Aaron held him tight and dodged around other people and signs. The horn shrieked again, but he didn't dare look back. The light at the next intersection had turned yellow. Aaron ran faster than he thought possible and flew over the crosswalk with seconds to spare.

Only once he reached the other side did he allow himself a glance over his shoulder. Much to his dismay, the station wagon plowed right through the red light and charged at him like an incensed bull. Aaron took off running again.

Sean bounced in his arms and drooled on the back of his neck. "Mommy!" he shouted, the only word he knew how to say.

"No, Sean, we're not going with Mommy. Or Daddy." He glanced back again, thinking Charles was at the wheel. Surprisingly, his mother drove the car and did not appear to have anyone with her. It was unusual for her to ever go out alone. Aaron wondered if she had taken Charles to the hospital for some reason.

"Whoa, kid! Slow down!" A balding window washer held out his hands to catch the boys. "What's the matter?"

"Please let me through," Aaron pleaded. "Someone very bad is trying to catch us." The station wagon veered toward the curb at a deadly speed.

"Let me call the police," said the man.

"No! No police or we die!" Aaron pushed past him, almost bumping into his bucket of soap, and bolted around a parked garbage truck. The nearest bystanders looked around in confusion.

Now Mother had rolled down her window. "Stop that boy!" she hollered. "He took my baby!"

The garbage collector reached for him, but Aaron wheeled around and ran between the parked cars at the curb. Now a six-foot bodybuilder was on his tail, and Aaron's pulse raced faster than his pounding feet. Sean didn't help anything by gurgling "Mommy! Mommy!" over his shoulder.

Not far ahead, a crowd was forming outside an office building during a fire drill. One very round man directed the bystanders and explained the rest of the procedure. Aaron didn't slow down.

"Stop, you rotten kid!" the garbage collector shouted. Not far behind him, the horn barked in a rapid sequence.

Men in suits and a few formally dressed women looked up at the commotion. Aaron put one hand over the back of Sean's head to support it as he dove into the crowd on the sidewalk.

He hunched over and squeezed himself between the well-dressed bodies. Conflicting shouts rang out from every direction, but he didn't stop turning, moving, hiding, running.

"Let me through," he muttered to those closest. "Someone wants to hurt my brother and me."

"Stop him!" other voices bellowed. "That kid is a baby-snatcher!"

A tentative hand seized his arm. Aaron pulled away with such force he fell against another member of the crowd. Sean shrieked in surprise at each sudden jerk and movement. Aaron tried to calm him, but the oppressive multitude had become constricting and loud. People had no idea whether to restrain the boy with the baby or let him get away. Many couldn't even see him but tried to catch or call to him anyway.

Aaron's only goal was to keep Sean from getting knocked in the chaos and to find a safe place away from other people. He could see the top of the garbage collector's bushy head bobbing through the crowd and knew that others would soon join him in tackling the lost boys. But nobody had the whole story and nobody knew where to look. The crowd became a throbbing, groping, shouting, tangled mess of bodies and ubiquitous arms, many of which grabbed onto Aaron briefly before being brushed off by somebody else. Aaron could barely breathe.

Holding the baby over his shoulder to keep him from getting squashed between adults, Aaron searched for an opening. With everybody else lost in confusion and a misguided sense of duty, he thought he could escape unnoticed. At the first chance, Aaron squeezed between two shouting office workers and a janitor and landed against the brick wall of the building. He had reached a long, narrow alley. With a quick glance back at the discombobulated crowd, Aaron took off panting down the alley.

"Are you okay, Sean?" He touched the baby's face and checked his temperature. "Not panicking?"

"Mommy!"

"Shhh, not today."

He treaded through the dirt and rubbish on the ground and passed a huge green dumpster. Pausing to catch his breath, Aaron leaned against the brick wall and readjusted his hold on Sean. His arms ached intensely now, but he knew he had to continue. He had just escaped his pursuers and felt a renewed hope that he would get out of this one unscathed.

Cradling the frightened-looking baby, Aaron pressed on. He passed a white door that appeared to be the back entrance to a kitchen and then stepped out of the alley. The street ahead was much less busy and much more shadowed. The abrupt calm chilled him.

The squealing of tires turned Aaron's head. Headlights blinded him, and he only had seconds to react. Aaron dove out of the way as the station wagon thumped up onto the sidewalk right where he was just standing and screeched to a halt inches from a lamppost. Mother seethed with anger behind the wheel.

"Mom!" Aaron yelled. "You could have killed us!"

"Get in the car."

"No, please listen to me."

"Shut up."

Mother opened her door and put one foot on the ground. The intimidation in her eyes seized Aaron, and he reluctantly climbed into the backseat. His stomach was in knots and he had broken into a cold sweat. He wondered if she would wait until they were home to kill him or if his end would come sooner.

Aaron hardly had time to buckle before the car nosed around into the street. He sat in silence for several minutes, clinging to Sean as the car swerved angrily around corners and through red lights. Then he blurted, "I did it to protect Sean!"

"I said _shut up_!"

They completed the drive in silence, though Aaron anticipated a furious outburst at any moment. He couldn't get his stomach to sit still and feared he would vomit what little food he'd eaten that day.

When they reached their home, Mother didn't need to touch Aaron. Her looks alone got him out of the car, across the dying yard, and through the front door.

When the door slammed behind him, he knew his fate was sealed. He didn't know what she would beat him with or for how long, but he knew it would only end when he stopped breathing altogether.

Mother quickly forced the baby from his arms. Right away, all her attention shifted to Sean. She checked him over obsessively, making sure he was okay before laying him gently on the couch beside a lumpy cushion. Then she turned back to Aaron.

He tried to find the right words to say. Nothing came to mind.

Mother stepped up to him menacingly, and her palm slapped Aaron hard over the lesser bruised side of his face. Then, just as suddenly, she pulled him into a constricting hug. Abruptly smothered by her alcohol-stained coat, Aaron had almost no idea what just happened. His broken ribs punched him with pain but he stifled a whimper.

Only a few seconds later, Mother tossed him aside with such force he landed sprawled on the floor. Then her fist gripped his collar and half-dragged him over to the couch.

Aaron's cheek stung and his head swam. This was too confusing, too frightening. He wasn't even sure if Mother was just mad or relieved to see him.

She pulled him up to his knees more gently than she had thrown him down. Her face was knitted with sorrow. "Oh, sweetie, how could you do this to me?"

Aaron stuttered. She slapped him.

"If you don't have something to say, keep your mouth shut! I'm speaking now. And I am not happy with you, Aaron. You very nearly destroyed us."

Aaron tightly pressed his lips together. Now might be a better time to listen than to make his case.

And just like that, the rant was over. Tears poured down Mother's face, and she bent over to sweep Aaron's frail torso into another bone-bending hug. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying out.

"I was so scared!" Mother wailed. "I didn't know what had happened to you. And Sean—my baby, I didn't know... I just..."

Her breath jerked and she pulled back. Then she scowled and struck Aaron harder than before. This time over his bruises.

"You took my baby! How dare you!"

Aaron clasped a hand over his blazing cheek. He glanced at Mother's eyes and saw a look of utter insanity. Now he was really worried.

"Charles loves us, don't you know that? He was over earlier, asking after you boys. He was _concerned_. But now he has to stay over at the hospital for a few days. He'll be having surgery, and the extra stress certainly won't help. This is all your fault, Aaron. Just like your father's heart attack."

Her hand swept around a few times to smack into his face. Aaron's head snapped back and he tasted blood all over again.

Then Mother was back to tears. "I can't keep living like this," she mumbled. She hung her head and stared at her hands for a long moment. "I know you're right," she quietly admitted. "He will never change, and I can't keep him from returning after the surgery. I don't think I can keep you boys safe anymore."

Aaron's eyebrows went up. "You believe me?" he whispered as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Mother sniffed and nodded. "But I don't know what to do. I can't stop myself."

Aaron didn't know what to do either. He just hoped she would really come around and start seeing his perspective on things.

Her chest heaved like she would start crying again. Aaron ventured a hand on her shoulder.

When Mother looked up again, her gaze had shifted. Her eyes became diabolical. "You took my baby," she hissed again. "How could you?"

She rose to her feet and yanked open the drawer to the lamp table beside the couch. From there she removed a pair of handcuffs that shone dully in the murky light. "Charles came home one day with these. He knew they were meant for you, not him."

Aaron's heart sank. This emotional roller coaster of his mother's was more torturous than a straight-up beating would have been. He waited for her mood to swing again.

But Mother grabbed his wrists and cuffed them tight enough to let the metal bite his skin. "Charles was always right! You're a danger to us all."

She pulled him by the cuffs to his feet and yanked him to the basement door. Glaring into his face, she whispered, "I wish you had gone instead of your father."

"So do I," said Aaron quietly.

Then she shoved him down the short, ladder-like steps to the basement. "You are never leaving this house again. Never!"

Aaron's cuffed hands barely caught his fall. His lifted himself up on his elbows and twisted his head around. Mother stood framed in the doorway, glaring, seething. He could hear the neglected baby crying out of sight, probably very hungry by now. Then Mother slammed the door. The rectangle of light on the floor clapped away, and Aaron was buried in cold darkness. He heard the door lock and the footsteps move away.

Aaron struggled to his feet and felt for the light switch in the wall. He sighed heavily, realizing he might be trapped down here for awhile. Might as well come to terms with that. He should be glad he wasn't getting beaten to death, but he hated being trapped.

He knew the basement well enough—every shape and shadow and box and shelf. There were laundry machines in one wall and a closet-sized bathroom in the far corner. But there was no food, very little light, and only two ways out. The door at the top of the stairs was unbreachable. He tried several times. He stacked boxes to reach the lone window just under the ceiling line, his usual means of escape, but this time it didn't budge. He could see a board wedged into the window well and knew his mother had blocked the way. Fear threatened to drown him, but he had to stay strong. He couldn't let this defeat him.

He sat down on an overturned laundry basket and rested his cuffed hands on his knees. Worrying about Sean wouldn't help, but it might keep him alive. He hated not being able to help anyone.

He may be helpless, but he would not be defeated. At least not yet.

—-

_**Pleeeeeeeeeease review!**_

_**Author's Note: I will be out of town and unable to post more chapters until early next week (May 26 or 27-ish in the U.S.A.). Feel free to check for more next week, but until then, I leave you with young Aaron Hotchner's internal struggle to survive. If you read this chapter the day I posted it, then the number of days you'll have to wait until the next update is about the same amount of time that takes place in the story between these two chapters. And yes, poor Aaron has found no change of scenery in that time.**_


	23. Chapter 23 -- The Absence

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE — The Absence

—-

Few subjects were so endlessly interesting as math. Mrs. Gillansy hadn't thought so when she suffered through functions and equations during high school back in the 50's, but in college she discovered her knack for computing. Now it was her special pleasure to encourage high schoolers to adore the majesty and mystique of math free from hateful ignorance.

So it frustrated her when certain students didn't catch on, or when they rejected the subject altogether. While most of her class did a tolerable job, one particular teenager showed a worrisome lack of engagement. Aaron Hotchner, the boy with bruises on his arms from rough play and D's on his homework from bad concentration. Hotchner's total disinterest irritated her, in part because it reminded her of herself at that age. But he hadn't even bothered to show up for today's quiz! She had worried about his situation before, but now she feared he was past help.

As Mrs. Gillansy scanned the heads bowed over the desks as if praying to their math, she could point out to herself which students were most likely to excel. Some had bountiful math skills. Some would make great scientists or engineers. That one boy, Vinny Perotta, was top of the class before being expelled. He was surely destined for greatness with his knowledge, if he could only learn to control his anger.

As for Hotchner—absent for the third consecutive day now—he might make a great garbage collector.

What could she possibly do for him now? It broke her heart to see a student fail, but if he wasn't willing to try, Mrs. Gillansy wasn't willing to waste her time on him.

—

Business had been slower than usual today. Roy Brooks didn't mind; he was content to stay behind the counter and pour the occasional drink as a couple of regulars talked sports. Only one or two customers meandered about the store examining tools, and nobody seemed to be itching to start a brawl. It felt good to have a more relaxed day for once.

Luckily, nobody needed their shoes shined. Roy's unreliable bootblack hadn't shown up for work since the incident with Haley and the truck. Roy hoped that more details on that little caper would be forthcoming.

Just as the two beerbellied men at the bar made their predictions for next weekend's football game, the front door jingled open. In came a dark-haired man in a suit and a brown-haired man in more casual business attire. The two men looked around and approached the bar, but they did not sit down.

"Can I get you anything?" asked Roy.

The man with short-cropped brown curls and a corduroy jacket shook his head. "Actually, we came to see your bootblack."

"Hotchner?" Roy raised an eyebrow. "He hasn't been showing for work in days."

"Do you know where we might find him?" asked the dark-haired man.

Roy frowned suspiciously. "May I ask why? Is he in trouble or something?"

"Quite the opposite."

A light of recognition came on for Roy. "Hey, aren't you two those FBI agents that came in several weeks ago?"

The men exchanged a glance.

"That's right," said one. "But don't worry. We're not investigating Hotchner, or your shop."

"Well, I honestly couldn't tell you where he is. Try the school. He could be anywhere."

The brown-haired man scrunched up his chin and pursed his lips in thought.

His partner sighed. "Alright. Will you give us a call if he turns up?" he said and placed a business card on the counter. Roy glanced down at the nonlocal number and Italian surname.

"Thanks for stopping in, fellas," he said as they turned away. "You're always welcome to stay for awhile."

With a nod, the two agents left the store. Roy was left wondering what was really going on here.

—

Haley Brooks finished cutting her chicken, then set down her fork and knife. She didn't feel like eating. Though Mom's vinaigrette green bean salad and crispy ranch chicken smelled exquisite, Haley's stomach had moved off the appetite highway.

Jessica had already finished her vegetables and now gave Haley a questioning look. Little sister had been surprisingly gracious the past couple days. She alone seemed to understand how much Haley cared about Aaron. Unlike virtually every other time Haley got in trouble, Jessica didn't pester her about the details. This time she gave her some distance, which Haley couldn't have appreciated more.

The last few days had been nerve-wracking. Each day since returning from Quantico, Haley sat nervously through school, avoided conversation with her parents at home, and went to bed wondering why in the world Aaron hadn't attended any classes all day. She hadn't seen him since he walked away from her home three days ago. She had hoped Aaron would find a safe place to stay and keep under the radar, but her father's call to the Hotchner home confirmed her worst fear.

Over the phone, Mr. Brooks had asked if Aaron made it home safely. Apparently, Mrs. Hotchner replied that he had, and she was so happy and relieved to have him back. When Mr. Brooks asked if everything was alright, she heartily denied any concerns. This terrified Haley, and all through the three days since the call, she pondered whether Aaron had walked home or been caught. Or had his mom been bluffing? Whatever the case, was he alive?

Now Mr. Brooks talked about his store in a low, grumbling tone to his wife. It sounded like he was losing business, but Haley wasn't really listening close. Suddenly he addressed her directly.

"...And where's that friend of yours, Aaron Hotchner? He hasn't come to work since before you kids ran away."

Haley felt her stomach clench and shifted in her chair. "He hasn't been to school either. I'm worried."

"Well, if he's not dependable, I'll have to let him go. You tell him that, next time you see him."

Jessica cast an anxious look across the table, as if wondering how Haley would react. Haley started to tremble.

"Aaron's not coming to work or school, Dad," she stammered. "And I think I know why. He might be in serious danger."

Mr. Brooks set down his knife and looked up firmly. "What are you talking about?"

"There _is _more to the story," said Haley, eyes pinned to her plate. "There's a reason Aaron ran away with me."

Nobody made a sound except for Mr. Brooks' growly "Well?"

"Remember when he went to the hospital and I said he was mugged at the bus stop? You can still see his bruises. But it wasn't a pair of strangers who beat him up; it was his own parents."

Mrs. Brooks put a hand to her mouth, and Jessica gasped.

"They beat him almost everyday," Haley went on, voice quickening and eyes dampening. "Both his mother and his stepfather. Aaron feared for himself and his baby brother, and that's why he ran away."

Her parents exchanged a look of shock. "If that's true," said Mr. Brooks gruffly, "then why the heck didn't he tell us? Or why didn't you?"

"Because... Aaron's stepfather threatened to kill the baby if the police get involved, or if anyone finds out. I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you months ago."

Her mom leaned back with a sigh of dismay. Mr. Brooks slapped his napkin to the table, looking very angry.

"I knew Hotchner's folks were up to no good!" he said. "What are they doing to him now?"

"I don't know," said Haley, wiping her tears. "But I'm really scared for him."

"Darn right you should be. I'm going over there right now."

"Be careful," said his wife as he got up and grabbed his coat. "Find that boy, but don't get yourself into trouble."

"If they so much as get in my way, I'll knock them flat," said Mr. Brooks as he marched to the door. "Any parents who treats a child like that doesn't deserve niceties." He slammed the door behind him.

Mrs. Brooks put an arm around her daughter's shoulder as Haley shook with silent sobs. "I'm glad you told us," she said softly. "You don't have to be scared now."

But what scared Haley the most was not knowing if her father was already too late.


	24. Chapter 24 -- House of Angels

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR — House of Angels

—-

Roy Brooks knocked several times on the Hotchners' front door. Irritated, he started hammering with the side of his fist.

Finally, he heard the lock unlatch, and he withdrew his hand. The door opened slowly inward, and Mrs. Hotchner leaned out through the narrow opening with one hand on the frame above her head. The smell of booze punched Roy in the nose.

Underneath her knotty brown hair, the woman's face looked terrible—sagging with stress and exhaustion thinly masked by smears of make-up. Her lipstick was applied with overkill. She looked dazed and completely out of the moment. Roy could hear the sounds of the television inside the house, a sign that her attention was elsewhere.

"What do you want?" Mrs. Hotchner slurred.

"Where is your son Aaron?"

"What's it to you? Are you from the school?"

"I'm his boss and the father of his classmate. Aaron hasn't been to work or school in at least half a week. Now where is he?"

"He's paying recompense for running away. It's not your concern."

"It _will_ be when I call the police and have them flood your house turning over every stone."

Mrs. Hotchner suddenly straightened. "You wouldn't."

"I'm about to. There's a payphone down the street."

"What _do_ you want?" Her tone dropped as if to make an illegal deal.

"I want you to release Aaron into my care for awhile. He'll be off your hands and out of your hair."

Mrs. Hotchner glanced warily up and down the street. She looked so drunk or spacey, she might fall asleep at any second. "Under the condition that you don't call the police?"

"If that's the only way."

"It is. Swear to me."

"I swear I will not involve the police, unless you keep him from me for another minute."

Mrs. Hotchner sighed and moved away from the door. "Step inside. Wait here."

But Roy did not wait. He stayed right behind Mrs. Hotchner as she unlocked the basement door and tried to hurry ahead of him down the short, narrow steps. She rushed into the shadows and began searching.

The air in the basement was musty and cold. Roy took in the clutter but didn't see the boy. He looked around boxes and behind shelves. This place was filthy. Roy cringed when he saw a rat scamper behind the washing machine.

Suddenly he spotted a limp figure curled up against the far wall. "Aaron!"

At the sight of Aaron, Roy felt his stomach curdle. He cursed at Mrs. Hotchner, longing to go back on his promise, and knock her head in as well.

Aaron lay in fetal position with his arms curled loosely over a thin metal case at his chest. His face, where it wasn't bruised, was the color of vanilla yogurt gone bad, and his mouth hung slightly open. His eyes were open a crack too, but they did not blink, making him appear quite dead. In fact, Roy suspected he had already died.

Roy dove to his knees at Aaron's side just as Mrs. Hotchner cut in between them. "Aaron! Speak to me!" she shrieked. Trying unsuccessfully to block him from view, she grabbed Aaron's hands. Now Roy noticed the handcuffs clinging tightly to the boy's wrists.

"Take those off at once!" he ordered.

Mrs. Hotchner was already fumbling with the key. Roy touched Aaron's face and found to his surprise that he felt very, very warm. Aaron suddenly managed to blink his glassy eyes.

Roy helped crank off the handcuffs and gently touched the reddened skin where they were too tight. He took the metal case Aaron had been clutching and realized it was an old Army Bible.

His focus returned completely to Aaron. "Blink if you can hear me, son."

Aaron's pupils shifted in his direction, and he blinked, though Roy could not be sure if it was an intentional or natural response.

Roy shot Mrs. Hotchner a glare. "When has he last eaten? Or had something to drink?"

The woman raised her shoulders and started to answer, but stopped when she didn't really seem to know. Roy fought the urge to strangle her. "Go get some water—." He called her an unsavory word.

She quickly left the basement.

"Aaron, it's okay," Roy said softly. "You're going to my house now. Just hang on."

Aaron gave a dry moan. He seemed to want to move.

Roy supported Aaron's head and helped him sit up. Immediately, Aaron's arms and head flopped as if emptied of structure. He slowly began to shiver, and then he coughed a dry, guttural cough. He leaned back against the wall, trying to swallow.

"Can you say something?" Roy begged.

Nothing.

Roy now closely saw the full extent of Aaron's facial bruising. He also noticed reddish-brown stains patching his shirt. "My word," he muttered. "What have they done to you?"

Mrs. Hotchner returned with a sloshing glass of water. Genuine worry, or a close imitation, clouded her face. "I don't know what happened. He was walking around fine not that long ago."

"Give me that." Roy took the glass and held it to Aaron's blood-spotted lips. Aaron took a sip, but most of the water dripped down his chin and shirt. Almost instantly, he drooled the small mouthful back out. Another sip was equally unsuccessful.

"Help me get him upstairs," said Roy, hiding his anxiety.

Mrs. Hotchner grasped Aaron's shoulders, and he was too weak to pull away. Roy put his arms around Aaron and guided him to his feet. Aaron wobbled and leaned into the man's side. With over half his weight supported by Roy, Aaron staggered on jello legs to the steps. Mrs. Hotchner kept her hands on Aaron's shoulder but didn't offer much support.

The ascent upstairs took several minutes and patient, deliberate steps. Roy did most of the work himself. They finally reached the living room, where unfriendly images danced about the TV screen. Roy and Mrs. Hotchner hauled Aaron outside and lifted him into the backseat of Roy's car. Aaron flopped over on his side and lay there stretched across the bench.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," said Mrs. Hotchner in a tone that almost sounded authentic. She leaned through the window and caressed the boy's socked foot. Aaron turned his head slightly away.

"Back away from him!" said Roy.

Mrs. Hotchner complied resentfully.

"While he's in my care, you won't come near him! You or your worthless husband. Understand?"

"As long as you don't bring in the police."

Roy wanted to swear his tongue out. He wanted to knock her teeth out. But he decided this woman wasn't worth anymore of his time, and he got into the car without another word to her. "Hang on, Aaron. We're going home."

—-

Mrs. Brooks heard the car pull up and hurriedly opened the front door with her daughters close behind her. She watched in horror as her husband half-carried, half-dragged the dead-looking boy from the backseat to the front steps.

"Help me with this boy!" he called.

Mrs. Brooks immediately held out her arms to help support Aaron's weight. Haley and Jessica hung back, seemingly stunned and uncertain about what to do. Aaron almost pitched forward, but the Brooks guided him through the kitchen and to the couch in the parlor. Aaron sank into the cushions and his head flopped back.

"He's very sick," said Mrs. Brooks, feeling his face. "Dehydrated, too."

"We've got to get his shirt off, cool him down." Roy pulled at the bottom of Aaron's threadbare brown sweatshirt.

"Haley! Jessica!" called Mrs. Brooks. "Get some water, a washcloth, antiseptic, and bandages."

Roy found it surprisingly difficult getting Aaron's shirt off. The faded fabric stuck to wounds on his chest and back, and some fresh bleeding began when he gently tore it away. Aaron barely had the strength to wince.

Roy dropped the balled-up shirt on the floor and gazed in horror at Aaron's pale, splotchy torso. Dirty bandages were peeling from over his ribs; mottled bruises and discolored raised lines patterned his chest. Mrs. Brooks fought the urge to vomit.

Haley brought wet washcloths and a bowl of water, while Jessica carried in antiseptic, cotton balls, and bandages. Mrs. Brooks wrung out one cloth and draped it over Aaron's forehead. Roy carefully removed the bandages from his ribs and began cleaning his chest. Aaron rarely reacted but just slouched there flaccidly, quietly taking it.

—

Aaron was feeling so many things right now, he didn't know what to focus on. First, he felt overwhelmed with bewilderment. Only hours ago, he had completely prepared himself to die. He had mentally parted from everything he ever knew, even deciding he could never again see Haley or Sean in this life. He tied off every loose end in his mind and accepted what he could not fix. He was ready to go, and had even lain down to make the going easier.

And then the angels came, pulling him back from death and carrying him to safety. He didn't know how it happened or if it was just a dream. He only knew that light had entered his dark tomb and whispered to him, "Wait! It's not your time to go. You have more to do. You have a future."

_A future_. Aaron had given up all hope for that a day ago, when he accepted that he would never escape. At one time, he thought he would grow up and make a difference in the world. It was a lofty idea for a boy in his position, and the utter deprivation of his confinement brought him back to reality. He wouldn't dare dream of a future again—until freedom sang its song of hope in his head.

Now he wondered why he surrendered. He simply could not abandon hope now. His journey had only started. And this mental image of himself lying stricken on death's door became a vision of countless, nameless children in similar deathly peril. Victims. Aaron was one, he knew there were others, and he knew that they were the people he was supposed to help. He had to hang on for them.

So hang on he did, though in the new light of his release from captivity, he found himself struggling against a hurricane of ravaging hunger that felt like razors on his insides and a myriad of pain that felt like razors on his skin. And these beautiful people—did he know them?—were cleaning the wounds they could see.

All he really wanted was a six course meal and a hot bath. Were they washing him now? Like a baby. But why did it hurt so much?

—-

"Aaron? Can you say something?" Mrs. Brooks looked worriedly into his vacant, wandering eyes.

No response.

"He's still burning up. Haley, more cold water. Quickly."

She and Roy sponged the boy down as they cleaned his wounds. Jessica's hands shook when she handed her mother cotton balls doused with antiseptic. Mrs. Brooks hated having her daughters witness something like this, and she hoped they would remain strong and not run to hide in their rooms. Not long ago, they were too bothered by this sort of thing to even look at it. Haley in particular suffered a strong sensitivity to anything that looked painful, but she seemed able to keep her revulsion in check as she rushed about helping with treatment. Mrs. Brooks felt a bit proud of her, but she could express that later.

And this boy, Aaron Hotchner—her heart broke for him. She had always wanted a son, and she couldn't imagine how any parent could inflict on their child what he had been through.

She and Roy finished cleaning and bandaging the wounds on his chest. "Help me lean him forward," she said. "I need to examine his back."

Roy guided Aaron into a forward-leaning position and held him there with his big hands. Mrs. Brooks covered her mouth and felt tears spill from her eyes. "Oh, Aaron. What did they beat you with?"

Roy peered over Aaron's shoulder to see the mess of old and new marks etched into his back from his shoulders to his waistline. Some looked like red curves and loops, others resembled the purple imprint of hard objects, still others appeared as raw strips flecked with miniscule specks of some rough material. It took all of Mrs. Brooks' will to keep from crying, but she heard Roy utter some furious words under his breath.

Haley came back with more water and stifled a cry. Mrs. Brooks took the bowl, still wordless.

"I thought he'd been to the hospital," growled Roy. "Did nobody look at _this_?"

"We... we had to attribute it all to a mugging," Haley said, tears streaming. "They asked questions, but we refused to give any more information. I'm sorry."

Mrs. Brooks took a deep breath. "Roy," she said in a quaking voice. "Some of these cuts are infected. I'm going to have to open them to get them clean."

Haley sank to her knees in front of the couch and put her hand on Aaron's. Jessica hung back, watching but keeping her distance.

"Alright," said Roy grimly. "Be careful."

He let Aaron drop against his chest and wrapped one hand behind the boy's head. His other hand held Aaron's shoulder in a way that wouldn't put pressure on his wounds.

Mrs. Brooks washed the wounds thoroughly and gently. She then pressed her thumbs on either side of a partially healed cut and slowly pulled it open. Now she could feel his muscles tighten under her hands. A tremor ran through Aaron's body. Mrs. Brooks' own hands shook, but she couldn't stop now. She parted the skin further and pushed the infection out. Blood and pus leaked from the cut. Mrs. Brooks quickly wiped it up and dabbed at the reopened cut with antiseptic. She thought she heard Aaron groan, but only faintly.

As she applied pressure with gauze and then moved on to the next cut, she barely noticed how Aaron's seemingly lifeless arms somehow found the strength to curl around Roy's middle, and Roy, in turn, held the boy closer, like his own son.

—

Whose hands were these around him? Whose warm-smelling shirt? Aaron inhaled the embrace deeply and breathed in the clean scent of the man who held him close. Was he a man, or an angel? Such a deep peace came from the presence.

Now Aaron knew. It was his father come to comfort him, come to hold him one last time. _Dad, how I've missed you_.

He couldn't remember the last hug he'd shared with his father, but he knew he wouldn't forget this one. He buried his face in the laundered shirt and welcomed back the familiar sensations. He wished so much for the strength to hug him back.

Pain broke through the heavenly calm. He felt the tearing agony in his back, so sharp, so cruel. He must be getting whipped all over again. _No, please make it stop_.

But then the warm embrace tightened, and he turned to his father for comfort. As daggers sliced across his back, Aaron silently begged to be carried away. He put all his weight against his father's chest and finally managed to wrap his own thin arms around the man. _Carry me._

And he was like a child again being lifted high in the strong arms that he trusted. He smelled the fresh air and felt sunshine fill his face. Looking up, he saw Daddy smile at him. Aaron smiled back. The pain was gone. Sweet music flooded his heart, and he felt like he could run as fast as a deer.

Daddy held his hand as they walked through this paradise together. They didn't say anything, they just walked, deeply content. What a gift, a precious gift from God.

Somehow Aaron knew when they had come to the end of the walk. Then Daddy gave his hand a final squeeze, smiled brightly, and walked on alone. Aaron watched him disappear, and he waved until the figure was gone.

He was alone, but not afraid. He was left with a heavenly peace and a deep-rooted conviction to carry on, no matter what.

—-

Roy Brooks eased Aaron's limp body to its side on the couch. Mrs. Brooks had finally finished cleaning and bandaging his back, but the boy had passed out several minutes ago. Now his eyes were closed and his features looked more relaxed than ever before.

Roy fingered Aaron's short, messy dark hair. _Sleep peacefully, son. You're safe with us_.

Mrs. Brooks still checked him over, looking for wounds she had missed. She felt his face and finally let out a relieved sigh. "The fever's broken."

—

_**Reviews, however long or short, are highly welcome.**_


	25. Chapter 25 -- The Longest Crawl

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE — The Longest Crawl

—-

Not long after his fever broke, Aaron had regained the strength to sit up and take tiny sips of thin, soupy rice cereal. He couldn't keep down the first couple bites, but they waited awhile, and he could manage much better now. He didn't mind having Mrs. Brooks feed him with a spoon, for though he felt like a helpless child, he could now imagine having a mother who cared for him. And Mr. Brooks had given him clean shirts to wear, one of his own white tees and a blue sweater, which was comfortable despite being much too big. Haley came by several times to sit beside him and take his temperature and hold his hand. Even Jessica helped by bringing him water regularly. They all accepted him like family.

His stomach still felt tight and jumpy, but he was keeping the meager meal down. Such a monstrous, paralyzing assault had taken over his insides when he became famished. After starving for days, he stopped feeling the hunger pangs, but now that he was getting something to eat, the pangs returned in clawing sweeps. If he was stronger, he might have gotten up and raided the Brooks' cupboards.

The dear Brooks. What possessed them to help a pathetic boy for nothing in return? Aaron didn't understand their kindness, but he could never stop being thankful for it. If only his throat didn't hurt so much, he would express his gratitude more vocally.

Though he was starving, Aaron soon had to stop eating. He relaxed and leaned back, wincing a little at the pain in his back. Mrs. Brooks dabbed at his face with a wet rag while Haley soothingly encouraged him to get some rest now. Mr. Brooks came into view and ushered Haley off to bed. Once Mrs. Brooks had cleaned up a little, she said goodnight to Aaron and went upstairs as well.

Mr. Brooks sat down in an armchair adjacent to the couch and folded his hands on his knees. He sighed and looked over at Aaron with a heavy, sleepy gaze. "I wish you had told me sooner, Hotchner."

_I wish you had noticed,_ Aaron thought, but he didn't resent the man at all.

"I hope you know that I'm terribly sorry for all that's happened to you," Mr. Brooks went on, "and I wish you didn't have to go through it."

Aaron nodded his acknowledgement.

"If I had known, I... well, things might have been different."

_What might have been different?_ Aaron thought curiously. _The way you treated me? Would you have taken me from my home sooner?_

"I didn't realize what a dangerous couple of crazies you lived with." Mr. Brooks glanced around the room uneasily. "And Aaron, there's one more thing that worries me."

Aaron frowned, listening close.

"Haley was with you all the time. She even ran away with you. Now tell me, did your parents _ever_ hurt my daughter?"

Now Aaron knew what the antsy and exhausted man was getting at. He thought back, trying to remember any time that Haley got to experience the Hotchner household's brand of parenting. He recalled one time when Charles interrogated him about Sean's whereabouts. Charles had slapped Haley once or twice and probably would have hurt her further if anything happened differently. But Haley, at the time, insisted it didn't hurt. "They tried," said Aaron softly. "One time."

Mr. Brooks looked away in anger. Then he rubbed his tired eyes. "I want you to realize something, Aaron. I don't want Haley to get hurt anymore than I want you getting hurt again. One thing I cannot bear is to see my children harmed. You're taking on a huge responsibility dating my daughter, you understand? You have to protect both of you. I want you two to remain friends, but only with extreme caution." Then he gave Aaron a firm, hard stare. "Because if anything ever happens to Haley, I will never forgive you."

Aaron was reminded that Mr. Brooks made his real family his first and foremost priority. He had a right to. As for Haley, Aaron didn't think he could forgive _himself_ if something happened to her because of him. He nodded. "I understand. And I hope, sir, that you will give me your trust. I will do all I can to keep her from harm."

"See that you do." And Mr. Brooks put a strong hand on Aaron's shoulder. "Good night, boy. I hope you get better soon."

Aaron was thinking about his responsibility to protect other people from the monsters in his life, so he didn't respond. Suddenly he looked right up at Mr. Brooks. "Sean," he whispered. "Where's Sean?"

"Who?"

"My baby brother. Did you save him too?"

Mr. Brooks furrowed his brow. "No, I didn't take the baby."

"You have to... Go back and get him."

"Does your mother hurt him too?"

Staring off into space now, Aaron shook his head.

"Well, Aaron, I can't just take a baby from his family if they're not hurting him. Besides, I'm too exhausted to be out driving right now. I'll tell you what. How about I go to the courthouse tomorrow morning and look into permanently removing you _and_ your brother from your parents' home?"

"I need to see him now." Aaron had to be sure he was safe.

"You can wait until morning. I promise I'll see what I can do, first thing."

"But..."

"I'm sorry, Aaron. I'm practically walking in my sleep now. I would be a hazard on the road."

Aaron knew there was no point in arguing more. Mr. Brooks turned off the light and went upstairs with the rest of the family.

Aaron remained alone on the couch in the dark. All he could think about was baby Sean in terrible danger with nobody to keep him safe. And right then, he decided he would do just as the Brooks had done—venture into that house, find his brother, and take him to the safety of this loving home. This was his responsibility, and his alone.

He leaned hard on the armrest for support as he got to his feet. Right away, he wobbled and felt nauseous. He held onto the armrest for another minute while he gathered his senses.

It was nearly midnight, and Aaron didn't think anybody in the neighborhood would be awake. It was probably best that way. It was only a twenty-minute walk from here to his home, and he could surely make it back without being missed.

Getting out the door proved to be the first challenge. Aaron guided himself along furniture until he reached the open space of tile between the kitchen doorway and the front door. Treading carefully in the dark and feeling his stomach pitch in every direction, Aaron took slow, shaky steps across the floor. He nearly fell but caught himself on the doorknob.

Deadbolt, _click_. Lock, _click_. The door eased open now. Aaron found himself heaving for air, and he had only made it to the front porch.

After he had closed the door, he sat down on the first step of the porch and deeply breathed in the crisp, cold air. He smelled dead leaves and smoldering cinders from unseen fireplaces. Several stars had poked their pointy heads through the night canvas, and only a few smoky clouds blotted the sky. It was really a very beautiful night, but the cold was starting to bite through the knitted fabric of the oversized sweater. Aaron rubbed his arms, flinching as the sweater brushed against welts. When he thought about it, his wounds stung as if fresh. Was he crazy to think of returning to the place where he received them?

Crazy or not, Aaron grabbed the porch railing and pulled himself up. He had lost a sock somewhere between the Hotchner basement and the Brook parlor, and the sidewalk burned his feet with its coldness. Focusing only on his mission, Aaron took a few steps away from the railing.

He felt like a toddler learning to walk, only there was no soft carpeting to fall on and no Daddy's arms to waddle into. Still, Aaron made each step count and constantly reminded himself he was doing it for Sean. Babies had a lot of courage getting on their fickle feet and building strength through repeated tumbles. Aaron wondered if Sean had started walking yet. Perhaps this challenge was one of the only things they had in common. Aaron smiled at the thought.

Thankfully, the next yard was bordered with a four-foot-high picket fence. Aaron leaned on the boards with his hands and used them as a guide. One step, then another. Eventually he made it past that yard.

And then came another. And another. By the third yard, Aaron started to feel his strength give out. It was a long shot, coming out here in his condition. Maybe he should turn around now before he collapsed on some stranger's drive.

Then who knew what might happen to Sean? For all Aaron knew, Charles could be done with his surgeries and out of the hospital now. He wouldn't hesitate to harass the Hotchner home and take the baby.

Aaron pressed on. Every muscle felt it was being stretched out and drummed upon.

He had to take many turns and cross a semi-busy street on his journey. Many times he felt that his legs would crumble, and he had to sit down every so often to hold his ribs and breathe deeply. He was sweating despite the bitter cold, and his stomach felt upside-down. He grew dizzier with each step and feared he would step off the sidewalk in front of a car.

It felt like a miracle when Aaron reached his street and saw his home sitting sadly hunched like it always did. The twenty-minute walk had stretched to an hour, but at last he made it.

Maybe it was the excessive exertion after such a brief recovery. Maybe it was the sight of his house. Whatever the reason, Aaron suddenly stopped, unable to go on. He felt terribly sick, sicker than he had felt at any time during his imprisonment. He dropped to his knees and promptly vomited into the dead grass. There was very little to throw up, but when he'd finished, he continued retching. He felt as if a steel clamp had tightened around his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut to steady his spotty vision.

When the pounding in his ears finally calmed, Aaron gasped in a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. The sickening wave had passed, leaving him shaking and feeling very empty and weak. But he still had a job to complete.

A single upstairs light was on. Keeping low, Aaron inched up to the window well at the base of his house. Grunting, he removed the bricks and the board his mother had piled against the window, and then he leaned down and pushed the window open.

Going feet-first, Aaron slid down through the window and felt for a box to land upon. His bare foot knocked against cardboard. He glanced down and saw the two big boxes he had stacked earlier. Above him, his arms and wrists ached. Just as he got one foot firmly on the box, his hands slipped, and he lost his balance.

The short fall backwards felt like the longest, and then his back hit the concrete. Aaron almost screamed but suddenly found he had lost the ability to breathe. Shooting pains gripped every bone and muscle, and his face tightened up with inexpressible agony. A few moments passed before he could take in air again, and it was a very shaky breath.

He abruptly felt overwhelmed by the oppressive darkness of the basement. Familiar musty smells threw him into painful memories. He felt the fear of being buried alive return full-force. Mother had beaten him and thrown him down here to die. He would never escape, never see the sunlight again, never hear Haley's laugh. And it was _his_ fault. He deserved to die—

No! Those were lies. He didn't have to listen to them now. Nobody, nothing could take his hope away. And still, he had a job to do.

Aaron lifted his head off the ground and looked for something to pull himself up with. He spotted a tall metal shelf and reached for one of the legs. Clenching his teeth to keep from crying out, he rolled onto his side and used the shelf to pull himself to his feet. Remarkably, nothing seemed broken. Now he was winded and aching, but with no new injuries to report.

Aaron crept up through the partially open basement door and let himself into the living room. The couch was once again stained with alcohol and littered with bottles. Most worrisome, he smelled a familiar nicotine bite in the air.

Like a second nature, Aaron knew his way around this house in the dark. He grabbed the stair's handrail and pulled himself up to the short hallway between bedrooms. The only light in the house streamed through a crack in his parents' bedroom door. He could clearly hear the voices of Mother and... Charles... arguing with the ferocity of hornets. Aaron tried to push back the anxiety that pounded through his heart and quietly slipped into his old room.

There, at last, the crib!

Aaron rested both hands on one side of the crib and breathed heavily as he gazed down. Sean was not asleep. He lay there with three fingers in his mouth and his bare toes curling against his leg. At the sight of Aaron, he started kicking the striped mattress excitedly.

"Shh," Aaron whispered. He bent over the crib and tried to get a hold on the baby. The reach pulled on every muscle in his back.

Scrunching up his face, Aaron struggled for a more secure grip on the baby. Straining at the weight, he slowly straightened up and lifted the baby, with his green blanket, out of the crib. He was breathing hard again. Sean stroked his cheek and cooed.

The sound of something breaking sounded from the next room. Aaron froze. Charles' furious shout was followed by a distinct slapping sound. Aaron winced.

He took a step toward the door, but the sound of footsteps stopped him. Aaron's heart pounded. Someone was headed right for this room!

Thinking fast, he dropped into a crouch and inched over to the bed. He ducked as low as he could with Sean still cradled at his side and scooted into the dusty space underneath the bed. Sean gave a small cough.

"Shhh!" said Aaron, holding the baby's head off the ground.

"Shh," echoed Sean. And he giggled.

Aaron wanted to clamp his hand over his brother's mouth, but he was afraid that would cause him to cry. So he simply lay there on his stomach with Sean hooked in his arm, praying that he wouldn't make another sound.

The door flew open. Aaron could only see the muddy pair of men's shoes that marched inside and stomped right past the crib. _If he sees the empty crib, we're dead._

But Charles hadn't turned on the light, and he hadn't headed for the crib. Aaron could hear papers shuffling and being collectively picked up from the desk. Then the feet turned in the direction of the bed. Aaron held his breath.

Charles walked closer to the bed. His long shadow cast by the light in the hallway spilled into the tight space between the bed and the ground. Then Aaron saw one of Charles' knees meet the floor. The man was kneeling. His rough hands came into view and rested on the floorboards, and Aaron's heart very likely stopped.

As Charles leaned down on one knee, his hand reached out across the floor. It seemed to come closer to the bed.

But now Aaron could see the fallen sheet of paper he was reaching for. Once he retrieved the page, Charles got back up and walked out of the room. Aaron just about melted with relief.

_Thank you, thank you, thank you, dear God._

The shouts soon resumed in the next room. Aaron could hear Charles yelling about his paperwork and trying to convince Mother that the bills somehow proved he should keep the baby. Satisfied that the adults were tied up in their dispute, Aaron crawled out from under the bed with Sean in his arms.

The sound of Charles hitting Aaron's mother startled the boy. A second later, he felt surprised that he was so shocked. He was also surprised to realize that he wished Charles wouldn't hurt his mother. Mother had been horrid, but Aaron still didn't want her to be hurt. He didn't know why other than that he wanted all the violence to end. He could feel each blow that he heard. So great was his distress at the sound, he almost went in there to make it stop.

But no, he was here to save Sean. Getting involved in his parents' fight would jeopardized that mission entirely, and both boys might end up dead.

Trying to ignore the fight, Aaron unsteadily carried Sean to the top of the stairs. His breath whooshed out of his lungs. _Stairs_.

It had been difficult enough pulling himself up the steps, but now he had to carry a baby down. Aaron feared a single misstep, a single slip or imbalance. He took the first step and discovered with a jolt in his navel that it was lower than he expected. His hand tensed on the back of Sean's head.

He heard Charles shout, "There is no one to stop me. Your other kid is gone too. Now I'm taking that baby tonight, and that's final!"

Aaron pressed Sean to his shoulder with one arm, grabbed the railing, and took the next few unsteady steps as quickly as he safely could. He was in a warzone and felt he would soon be dodging grenades if he didn't escape.

He made it to the kitchen without incident and stepped out of sight behind the corner. Sean started to fuss, and this time Aaron did put a hand over his mouth.

He could see the long, uneven shadow stretching down the stairs as Charles crossed the hall. Then a new light threw his shadow up against the wall. His furious roar a moment later curdled Aaron's blood.

Aaron staggered around the kitchen table and unlocked the door. He heard more yelling.

"Where is he? Where'd you hide my baby?"

"I don't know. But I'd rather he was dead than with you!" Mother screamed.

"Tell me where he is!"

Crashes soon followed, and Aaron fumbled with the doorknob. Then a sound that chilled his heart blasted through the house: a single booming, ear-shaking gunshot. Aaron felt his nerves turn to ice. His hand refused to move on the doorknob.

Sean's crying broke into his daze a minute later. Now Aaron frantically yanked open the door and stumbled out into the lawn. He heard a thump and a rush of footsteps. Seemingly out of nowhere, Aaron found the strength and stability to run through the grass between houses and hurry behind the backyard fences.

Once he was out of sight, he collapsed. Thankfully, he turned a little to his side and cushioned the baby with his own body as he hit the ground.

He huddled there a moment calming Sean until his cries subsided. But he knew Charles had heard and would be upon them in a minute. The question of whether or not his mother was still alive nagged in the back of his mind, though he still didn't understand why he cared.

"I can't go on," Aaron panted after he tried several times to get his feet under him. Each time, his starved and wounded muscles refused to hold. It was frustrating and terrifying, wheezing on all fours and completely failing to stand. He could hear Charles opening the front door and stepping outside.

"Hang on. I'm not finished," Aaron whispered. From where he lay in the grass, Sean sniffled up at him.

Aaron tested his weight on all fours and found that he could crawl fairly steadily. Thinking fast, he laid out Sean's green blanket and placed the baby on the middle of it. He brought two opposite corners over Sean's body and tied them together, then brought the other two corners behind his back and struggled to knot them. Finally, he created a sort of sling with Sean hanging close to his broken ribs. Now he could crawl back to the Brooks' and carry the baby at the same time. It was only a mile.

Aaron paused to listen. He heard the garage door grinding open and Charles banging around through the equipment bins. Now or never, time to go.

Aaron started crawling down the narrow strip of gravel and grass behind backyard fences. Even through the sweater, the knot in the blanket dug into a cut in his back, but he bit his lip against the pain and kept going. Sean gazed up from where he hung, swaying slightly as if in a hammock, close to his brother's chest. It was an awkward and slow-moving journey. Already Aaron's knees and palms were hurting.

Behind him, he could hear the station wagon starting up. He tried to hurry, but he felt like he was dragging a sack of rocks. Specks of dirt and tiny stones stuck to his palms, and the ground rubbed through the knees of his jeans.

Then headlights poured down the street, and a few rays ran away between houses. Aaron saw the light sweep over his arms and quickly folded himself around the baby. He lay motionless until the car had passed.

In the brief sweep of light, Aaron had seen how brightly red Sean's cheeks had become. The baby was freezing in his thin pajamas.

Aaron slipped the knotted blanket off over his head and then removed Mr. Brooks' blue sweater. He wrapped Sean warmly in the sweater, settled him back into the sling, and looped the knot back over his shoulders. With only a loose-fitting T-shirt to keep the cold away, Aaron shivered. But at least he would be moving, and Sean would be warm.

As Aaron continued crawling, Sean drifted off to sleep. Aaron found himself shaking with exhaustion, but the cold air kept him wide awake. His head didn't spin as much when he was down on his hands and knees, and he found he could keep pushing himself for several more minutes.

Then came the intersection. Aaron paused beside the stop sign and watched a late 70's sedan roar by. Only a distant street lamp lit up the shiny fenders.

How could he avoid oncoming traffic? Aaron sat for a minute, cradling Sean, watching late-night cruisers fly by. As he pondered his dilemma, he caught sight of a station wagon coming around the corner.

Aaron scrambled back into the bushes and hid himself in the scraggy branches. Peering out, he could see Charles drive slowly by, evil eyes scanning the roadsides as he went. Halfway down the street, Charles suddenly steered the car around in a sharp U-turn and revved off the way he came.

With the street finally clear, Aaron ventured out. The cold asphalt felt even rougher to his hands and knees than the gravel before. But now he hurried as fast as possible to get across. When he reached the yellow line down the middle of the road, Aaron stopped at the sound of an oncoming car. He curled himself up as small as possible, and the car sped right past. The wind of the vehicle rocked Aaron a little, but he soon recovered and crawled into the next lane.

In only seconds, a new pair of headlights bore down on him. Aaron pulled his gaze away and focused on moving as quickly as he could to the sidewalk. He just made it as a heavyset truck roared past his heel.

Aaron stopped to catch his breath. Sean stirred and moaned, and then went back to sleep. Aaron chuckled a little with relief and amazement that he had made it so far.

Already the first orange rays of sunrise had painted one side of the dark sky. Aaron wondered how many hours had past since he left the Brooks' comfortable couch.

This journey was really taking a toll on him now. He breathed harder and felt pains in places that didn't hurt before. Those areas that already hurt became significantly more excruciating. Hunger raked through his innards and exhaustion beat against his skull. Forcing his eyes open, Aaron continued crawling down the next few blocks.

He could barely move his stiff legs or hands by the time he saw that peaceful front porch. _So close, so very close._

He didn't noticed the bloody handprints he left on the sidewalk as he neared the front steps. "Sean is safe" were the only clear words spinning around his foggy head.

One weak hand gripped the first step. Home. At last.

Then Aaron collapsed on his side in the grass and fell into a deep faint filled with confusing dreams. Sean remained sleeping peacefully against his brother's chest for the rest of the night.


	26. Chapter 26 -- Honor

_**Note to Readers: Thank you all for reading! To some who reviewed, I wrote a reply to your comments which I posted as a review on Chapter 25. Thanks again. The story is almost finished!**_

—_**-**_

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX — Honor

—-

Haley's hand shook as she knelt and reached out to take her friend's bloody hand that rested on the edge of the porch. Aaron's head hung over his shoulder in the grass, and his chest rose and fell steadily as he slept. Sean sat up in a massive sweater and a tangled green blanket that was knotted behind Aaron's back. The baby contentedly plucked grass while Haley looked on.

"I... I found him," Haley called out over her shoulder. She saw spots of blood and grass stains on the knees of Aaron's jeans. She had an idea of what he had been doing, but it seemed impossible.

When she woke up and found him missing, she feared that his mother had come for him. She had woken her whole family to search for him while privately blaming herself for his recapture. She thought of a thousand different ways she could have protected Aaron and began thinking of how she would deal with Mrs. Hotchner. But now... all of that washed away.

Haley's family rushed up behind her from the front door. She heard her sister gasp but didn't look back.

Mr. Brooks knelt at Haley's side and reached out to touch the baby's head. "Sean..." he whispered. Haley stole a sideways glance and saw uncharacteristic tears fill his eyes. In that instant, he looked strangely ashamed and upset. To Haley's surprise and confusion, her dad picked up Aaron's little brother and gave him a tight squeeze. She thought she heard him whisper an apology but didn't understand why.

Her dad's strange actions weren't her main concern now. Haley glanced again at her friend and saw how cold he looked in her father's T-shirt. "Dad," she said. "Can we get him inside?"

Mr. Brooks nodded and held out the baby. "Here, you take Sean in."

The bundle of sweater and baby rested in Haley's arms, but she didn't tear her gaze away from Aaron. Her mom and dad got down on either side of him and checked him over. They started unknotting the blanket, and her mom muttered, "Did he really...?"

"Is he okay?" asked Haley.

"I think so," said her mom. Her dad said nothing.

Mr. Brooks grabbed Aaron under the arms while his wife took the boy's legs. Together, they lifted him from the grass and carried him across the porch into the house. Aaron didn't even stir, and his head remained sagging to one side. Jessica stayed back and stared speechless at the spot where the brothers Hotchner were found.

The Brooks laid Aaron on the couch and stood back, amazed. Haley stood slightly behind her parents with Sean in her arms.

"I should have gone," whispered Mr. Brooks. "He didn't have to go back for his brother."

"But he did," said Mrs. Brooks, gently stroking her husband's arm. "And he made it."

They stood in silence for another minute, still baffled by Aaron's apparent actions. Finally Mrs. Brooks broke herself free from her stupor and went about cleaning and bandaging Aaron's hands. She then stretched a blanket over him and tucked him in like her own precious child. While she tended to him, Haley and Jessica prepared some milk for Sean. And Mr. Brooks simply stood in the doorway between the parlor and the kitchen with one hand on the wall and both eyes glued to the sleeping boy. He looked dazed.

Mrs. Brooks came up beside her husband and put a hand on his shoulder. Mr. Brooks sighed deeply.

"That boy," he said softly, "has honor."

—-

_**Just a short calm-before-the-storm. Stay tuned, big finale coming up soon!**_


	27. Chapter 27 -- Face-to-Face

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN — Face-to-Face

—-

Aaron had never really thought of sleep as a blessing before. Now, in his foggy waking mind, it was such a sweet gift. He wanted to turn over and go back to sleep when the hard lines of reality broke through the cloud of his loopy dreams. The parlor emerged like a submarine from beneath the sea, shapes and colors slowly becoming clearer as the water dripped away. He wanted to submerge again and see all the nonsensical creatures and colors of the deep. But try as he might, he was awake, and the dreams would not solidify like they did moments ago.

Aaron took a deep breath and smelled the scratchy upholstery of the cushions beneath his face. A warm blanket nestled up to his jawline. The air felt delicious and clean, and he caught a whiff of eggs frying. His stomach gave him a kick of hunger.

But he still didn't want to get up. He could vaguely remember peaceful mornings like this one where he had the freedom to lie in bed for awhile undisturbed. He would get up in his own time, and then head downstairs to join Mom and Dad for breakfast. Everything was perfect and gentle.

_Get up!_ snapped the pain in his gut.

Aaron groaned, wondering when he'd last eaten. Then he slowly began to remember crawling a mile in the dark with a baby swaddled to his torso. His head jerked up from where it lay. Sean?

Nobody else was in the parlor. Aaron tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness knocked him back onto the warm cushions. Now he fought the desire to rest awhile. Until he saw Sean, he could not close his eyes again.

Someone appeared in the doorway across the room. Haley...? No. Her sister.

"Aaron?" Jessica peered at him curiously and came closer. "Are you finally awake?"

"Whereshawn?" Aaron mumbled.

"Sorry?"

"Sean."

"The little guy? He's with my mom. Should I tell her you're awake?"

Aaron sighed. He tried to shrug, but Jessica didn't seem to catch it.

"I... I guess I'll get her."

Aaron felt like he'd been shot in the stomach earlier, and the pain tore at his insides. "Can I... have some... food?"

"I'll ask." The younger girl quickly rushed around the corner into the kitchen.

Aaron tried sitting up again and made it halfway. Every muscle felt like a rock. With a little more strain, he managed to sit up and lean into the back of the couch. Despite the deadly hunger and the ever-present aches and pains, he felt considerably better after his rest.

Soon Mrs. Brooks came out of the kitchen with Sean clinging to her shoulder. She was dressed in tidy slacks and a flowery blouse with a red apron, and she wore her tired blond hair up in a bun. She smiled kindly and said, "Good morning, Aaron."

"Ma'am." Aaron nodded his reply.

"You probably want to see Haley. She'll be down shortly, but she slept in too. She was up much of the night and the day before looking after you."

Aaron frowned. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Well, we found you in the front yard yesterday morning. You've been asleep for more than twenty-four hours."

Aaron's eyebrows knitted. Wow. If only he could sleep that much everyday.

"Jessica's getting you something to eat," Mrs. Brooks went on. "In the meantime, can I talk to you for a minute?"

Aaron nodded, and the woman holding his brother sat beside him on the couch. Sean looked up at her, then at Aaron, and then waved his arm up and down wildly. He shrieked and gurgled and looked at both of them again with a quizzical expression.

"What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Brooks.

Aaron bit his lip. "He, um... he expects you to hit me."

Mrs. Brooks put a hand to the side of her face and took a slow, deliberate breath. Aaron could see the tears she was fighting to blink back and quickly looked away.

"Aaron..."

"I know. I know. You don't have to say anything."

She paused. Then, "May I hold your hand?"

Aaron felt oddly uncomfortable at the suggestion. "What? Why?"

"So that Sean can see what loving touch looks like."

Aaron glanced up at her, still adverse to the idea. As awkward as it would be, he could at least understand the benefit she described. Sighing, he lifted his hand, and Mrs. Brooks took it warmly in hers.

Sean made another hitting motion with his arm and gave Mrs. Brooks a confused face.

"No, Sean," she said softly. "My hands are not for hurting. I can use them to be gentle."

With her free hand, she held onto Sean's tiny fist. Ever so gently, she uncurled his tightened fingers and guided his hand over to Aaron's. Then she joined the boys' hands and cupped them briefly between her palms. Sean tensed and started making another fist under Aaron's fingers.

"Gentle, Sean." Mrs. Brooks tenderly stroked his hand. "Use your hand to support, not to harm."

Sean drooled as he stared at his brother. Then he clapped his other hand over Aaron's and buried his nose on top of Aaron's knuckles. Aaron felt baby phlegm and saliva drip down to his wrist but resisted the urge to pull away. Then he felt his baby brother's wet lips pucker in a quick kiss.

He didn't know when Sean learned to kiss. Maybe Mom taught him when Aaron wasn't around. The sweet gesture surprised him, and Aaron gingerly placed his free hand on top of his brother's. Sean rested his soft cheek against the embraced pairs of hands and cooed.

"He loves you, Aaron," said Mrs. Brooks.

Aaron allowed himself the trace of a smile.

Sean's attention quickly bounced to something else, but Aaron tried to hold onto his hand for as long as he could. Soon Sean pulled away and busied himself with a plastic cup Mrs. Brooks had given him to teethe on. Aaron wiped his hand on his pants and smoothed out the Band-Aids on his palms.

"How do you feel today, Aaron?" asked the woman.

"Better. But still hungry."

As if on cue, Jessica came from the kitchen with a bowl and a glass of water. The bowl contained thin rice cereal, a scoop of applesauce, and a plain egg. Mrs. Brooks tried to keep Aaron from inhaling the food in mere seconds, and for a short, irrational moment, he feared she would take it away and make him starve. His mother would have done that. Aaron feared if he didn't eat fast enough, he couldn't keep all he was given.

But Mrs. Brooks did not take the bowl until he was finished. Then she handed it to Jessica with a request for more.

"Alright. Now I can tell you about all that's happened," Mrs. Brooks began as Jessica left. "Yesterday, right after we found you outside, Roy—my husband called the police and had them go to your home. They found your mother upstairs, and... and they saw that she had been shot in the shoulder."

Aaron took a deep breath. "But she's alive?"

"Yes, sounds like she'll survive. But your stepfather..."

"Where is he?"

"They couldn't find him, him or his car. He could be anywhere right now."

"He'll find us," Aaron muttered.

"Not if we can help it. Now, there's something else that my husband forgot to tell you about when he first brought you here."

Aaron's stare begged her to go on.

"A couple of FBI agents came to his store looking for you. They asked him to call them when he found you, but he completely forgot until yesterday evening."

Aaron felt his heart skip with interest. "What did they want?"

"As far as we know, just to talk to you. So Roy gave them a call before going to bed. They said they're working a case, but they'll try to come by as soon as they can."

Aaron wondered what Agents Gideon and Rossi could possibly want to talk about, but he was excited at the idea of seeing them again. "Do you think they'll catch my stepfather?"

"I don't know. Roy didn't tell them everything about your situation."

Aaron thought for a minute. "Did I miss anything else?"

"Well, we had a doctor look at you. He said you're one of the toughest kids he's ever met, and you're likely to recover just fine." Mrs. Brooks smiled. "And the police would like to interview you when you're ready. And Roy is at the courthouse right now, discussing your case."

Aaron said nothing, absorbing the new information. It seemed so bizarre to have public servants looking after him. After being strictly trained to avoid the people who could help him, he still wondered if something bad would come of this. But at least Sean was safe, and nobody could use him as leverage.

Unless... Charles found them.

Jessica returned with more food, and Aaron ate slower this time.

"I used the last egg," she told her mom.

"There's more in the cellar."

Then, to Aaron's delight, someone appeared on the staircase. He hadn't seen Haley in so long, it seemed like, and now she gazed over the railing in her nightgown and purple bathrobe with her hair tied back. There were circles under her eyes and no make-up on her face. She looked tired, disheveled, and a bit cranky, but in Aaron's eyes she descended the staircase like an elegant princess in a ball gown. This beautiful girl made the world spin a little faster.

Mrs. Brooks gave Aaron's hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm going to get Sean a clean diaper," she said quietly as she got up.

"I'll go with you," volunteered Jessica.

They passed Haley at the bottom of the stairs and walked briskly to the rooms at the top. Haley, with one hand still on the railing, smiled meekly at Aaron.

"You're awake!" she said in a scratchy voice.

"So are you!" he chuckled.

Haley walked over and beamed sleepily. "Can I hug you?"

"Carefully."

She gave him a quick, loving embrace, careful not to hurt his ribs or other injuries. Then she sat down with a sigh.

"Thanks for looking after me," he said.

"You made it pretty easy. No complaining or anything."

"I was asleep."

"That's no excuse. You're a perfect patient."

"I had no choice."

Haley grinned and rested her arm over the back of the couch. "Aaron, you know what used to be the most important thing in my life?"

"No, what?"

"The theater. I thought I could become a star and make billions showing off my talents to the world. I was really full of myself."

Aaron wanted to disagree. She always seemed very selfless to him.

"Well, I now realize there are more important things in the world than fame. You showed me what matters most. Thank you."

"I did? So what matters most?"

Haley giggled. "Love."

Aaron felt his face flush, but he smiled. He quickly cleaned his bowl.

"I can get you more cereal," Haley offered.

"I'll get it. I'm doing a lot better now."

"Would you like another egg?"

"Jessica used the last one."

"There's more—"

"In the cellar. I know. But I don't want to eat you guys out of house and..."

Haley's stare shut him up. "I'll get another egg."

"Thanks."

As Haley headed for the cellar door, Aaron pulled himself to his feet. To his relief, his strength had returned. He walked slowly and carefully to the kitchen doorway and came around the corner.

He froze. There at the square kitchen table with a checkered cloth sat a muscular man. Greasy hair pushed back, stubble glistening with sweat, dark eyes flashing. Over his tan T-shirt, he wore a leather jacket that looked out of his budget range. His beefy hand clenched around a shiny revolver that rested on the tabletop.

"Hello, Aaron."

Aaron set the bowl on the counter and glared into Charles' wicked eyes. "How did you find me?"

"You're just as stupid as your mother was. It wasn't hard finding out where your girlfriend lived, and I knew you'd come crying to her. You're so weak."

Aaron said nothing but continued glaring, taking in every detail he could about the man's appearance. He seemed sober this time and cigarette-free. The gun in his paw gave off a cold silver gleam. Aaron figured it was the weapon that hospitalized his mother.

"I never thought that blond wuss would leave this room," Charles muttered. "You know, I've been watching the house for some time. It was too easy. But that girl, she ain't your squeeze. Does she have a sister?"

Aaron kept his lips sealed and his glare steady.

"How many people are in this house?" Charles hissed.

"If you expect me to answer, ask me about the weather."

Charles' face grew colder. "Shut your smart mouth. I don't need you to tell me anything now that I'm in control; I can find out for myself."

Aaron kept his breathing steady and refused to break his stare. All the fear he felt for himself, Sean, and the Brooks got packed neatly on a shelf in the back of his mind, and he began praying with every thought.

"You know there's no way out of this one." Charles caressed the barrel of the gun. "Are you scared?"

Aaron shook his head once.

"You should be."


	28. Chapter 28 -- A Family's Battle

_**I apologize for the long time it's taking me to get the final chapters out. Unfortunately for the story, I will be out of town again this weekend. I sincerely hope to get the last one or two chapters finished next week. There is a **__**slim**_ _**chance I can finish this by tonight, but in the more likely prospect that I don't, please check back next week.**_

_**It took me so long to finish this chapter because it took a lot of planning. I'm still not completely happy with the result. Please let me know if you don't like it, or if it works.**_

_**Thank you all for hanging on with me, and thank you for reviews! They make me want to dance and write more!**_

_**-LTLS**_

—_**-**_

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT — A Family's Battle

—-

"Why don't you have a seat? You look like you might fall over."

"Are you asking me?"

The gun raised. "I'm telling you."

Aaron pulled out a wooden chair and sat down across the table from Charles. He tried to move as though he was acting on his own free will, reasoning that the more in-charge he felt, the less likely he would be to fall under Charles' control.

"How did you get in?" he ventured to ask. He knew Charles couldn't have watched the kitchen from outside because all the windows on the ground floor had been covered with thick black-out curtains to keep any outside light from entering the house while Aaron slept. He figured Charles would want to brag about his feat, if he chose to tell it.

"Like I said, you fools made it too easy. I broke into the garage and watched the kitchen from that door." Gloating, Charles nodded back at the garage door which had a small square of glass in the upper half. "It was as if these people _wanted_ me to get at you, don't you think?"

Aaron leaned forward. "No, I don't think so."

"Aaron," Charles sighed, annoyed. "This could have ended so much easier for all of us. I could be living happily with my son, you could have your ribs intact, and your mama might still be alive." The gun in the man's hand moved more emphatically than any of his facial muscles. "But no, you had to wreck all our lives."

"You didn't kill my mom," Aaron said. "She's in the hospital. You haven't won over any of us."

Charles turned his face to stone. "What's to stop me from finishing what I started?"

Aaron wanted to retort that _he_ would stop Charles no matter what it took. He wanted to sound confident. However, he knew not to antagonize the man, especially when he had a weapon. So he said nothing.

He heard a door close further back in the house, and padded footsteps approached the kitchen from behind him. Aaron tensed and started to raise himself from the chair, shouting, "Haley! Don't come in here!"

Immediately the gun leveled with his eyes, only a couple feet from his face. Charles' brow folded over his steely glare. Slowly, he shifted his aim from Aaron's face to just over his shoulder. "You're too late," he mocked.

Holding his breath, Aaron dared to glance back. Haley stood frozen in the doorway with two eggs in one hand, and she looked at him with her mouth open and her eyes widening.

"Come. Join your friend." Charles waved her over with the gun.

Haley came tentatively to the table and sat next to Aaron. Her hands still nervously gripped the eggs.

"Well, this is a familiar set-up," said Charles, leaning back in his chair. "Will you two cooperate this time? It won't be as simple as a tire iron if you don't. I'll fill you both with bullets if I don't get what I want."

Aaron maintained his stare as he reached for Haley's hand under the table. He felt thick, gooey liquid dripping over her fingers and knew her tense grip had broken the eggs.

"Now which one of you is going to tell me how many other people are in the house?" Charles demanded.

Aaron pressed his lips tightly closed. As much as he wanted to keep the other Brooks and his brother from being discovered, he didn't know how much he and Haley could withstand. Countless plans for escaping or counterattacking ran laps around his head, but all were too risky to try now.

"I don't have a lot of time," said Charles.

"We're alone," said Haley. "There's nobody else here."

Aaron closed his eyes briefly as he let out an anxious sigh. He knew Charles had already seen Jessica in the kitchen.

Charles gave a low, gravelly chuckle. "Is that so?"

Aaron quickly shook his head. "No. Haley just forgot..."

Charles leaned far across the table and made the barrel of the gun kiss Haley's temple. "You tell me then, Aaron. Is it worth watching your girlfriend's brain explode to protect the baby brat?"

Aaron's hand shook in Haley's. "You saw her sister," he said quietly. "She's home."

"Who else?" Charles pulled back the hammer on the gun.

Aaron's mind scrambled. If he gave Charles an answer, he knew he would have to jump to a flawless backup plan. Unfortunately, he didn't have one. Yet. He looked away from Haley as she trembled under the gun's touch.

"Haley's mom," said Aaron. "And my brother Sean."

"Anyone else?"

"No."

Charles leaned harder into the gun, and Haley let out a faint cry, like a scared dove. "Are you sure?" Charles sneered.

"Absolutely."

"Where's your father?" Charles asked Haley. "Or do you have one?"

"He's at the courthouse," Haley stammered.

"Well, he'd better stay there if he wants anybody spared." Charles eased up on the gun and got to his feet. "I'll tell you what we're going to do. The girl's gonna call her family in here, and I'm gonna leave with the baby. If either of you try to stop me, everyone under this roof dies."

The only thing Aaron could think to do was buy time. While Charles walked to the kitchen doorway to take a quick look around, Aaron sighed. "Here you go again," he said, struggling to hide his terror.

"Excuse me?"

"You're angry, and you're going to act on that anger irrationally. You know, I used to wonder why you were always so angry. But then I figured it out."

"Oh, really?" Charles stopped in the doorway, and Aaron turned around to face him.

"You fought in the war, just like my dad. You saw all the tragedy and horrors. I think you even had it worse than some because you spent time in a Prisoner of War camp."

He could see Charles' face pale, and then redden, and his fingers curled up tightly on the revolver's handle.

"You were tortured, and you haven't been able to get over it," Aaron continued. "That's why you're so angry. That's why you bury yourself in addictions and shallow relationships. And that also explains some of your violence."

"I don't know what the #!&amp;% you're talking about, but I've heard enough."

"Do you remember one day making me kneel on gravel and winching tourniquets around my arms and then beating me with a stick?" Aaron almost flinched at the memory. "For awhile I tried to understand why you did all that. Then when I was locked in the basement, I looked through some of my dad's old journals. He wrote about P.O.W. experiences, and he specifically mentioned tourniquets used for torture by the Northern Vietnamese army. I looked back at other things you'd done, and I started to realize where you got your patterns of behavior. You were trying to enact on me some of the injustices you faced overseas."

"You'd better shut up quick."

"My father suffered, too," Aaron went on. "But he dealt with it. He didn't let go of his faith or his family. Sometimes he had unexpected angry outbursts at home, but he always tried to contain it. I hardly noticed he was dealing with the memories. My father was a great man and a great soldier, and you could have gone the same way."

"You're asking for a bullet down your throat."

"All I'm saying is I think I understand why you want to control us. You feel inadequate because you got captured, and you want the chance to fight back. You want to be the one on the controlling side for once. Sean is only a pawn in your power struggle. But it doesn't have to be this way..."

Charles came back to the table and struck Aaron with an open hand. As he swung back to do it again, Aaron's hand shot out to catch the man's wrist.

Charles sucked in a sharp breath and clicked his tongue. "Oh, you do _not_ want to do that."

Aaron only glared hard over their locked arms. He heard Haley's unsteady breathing beside him but did not release his grip or move his eyes.

The tense silence was suddenly split by the sound of the doorbell chiming two shrill notes. Charles looked up abruptly and hissed, "Who would that be?"

When nobody answered, a sharp rap sounded from the door.

Charles yanked Aaron to the floor. "Get down, both of you!"

Haley quickly joined Aaron in crouching at the foot of the table. She tried to wipe the broken eggs from her hands to her gown.

"Who's at the door?" Charles turned to the window, which was still covered with a black-out curtain. He crossed the room and lifted the lower corner of the curtain to peer out. "Two men," he said as he returned to the teenagers with his gun raised. "Who are they?"

Aaron wondered if the FBI agents had come, like Mrs. Brooks said they might, be he didn't know for sure. "We don't know. I swear," he told Charles. "Why don't you let one of us check?"

Haley nodded. "They might be from the phone company. We've been needing someone to check the landline."

"Well, if that's true, they can come back later," said Charles.

But then they heard footsteps on the stairs. Charles flattened himself on one side of the kitchen doorway. Aaron strained to see into the next room, and he caught a glimpse of Jessica heading for the kitchen, where the front door was.

"Stop right there!" Charles leveled his gun with Jessica's curly blond head.

She had only made it to the kitchen doorway and looked at them all with wide eyes.

"Get down on the floor," ordered Charles, and Jessica sat next to Haley and Aaron. "Nobody moves until I say so," said the jumpy man.

Aaron made no move, but he kept thinking about what he would be willing to do to protect this family.

—-

"Brooks said that someone would be home all day." David Rossi stroked his chin in thought.

"Check the address." Jason Gideon was already wandering from the front door and looking at the house from new angles. He couldn't see in through any of the windows, and that struck him as odd.

"This is the house," said Rossi. "Now don't wander off. They might have gone out and forgotten to tell us."

"They might have." Gideon continued along the side of the house, and Rossi reluctantly came after him.

"But you know they didn't." Rossi sighed.

"It's unlikely."

"Let's look for another door. And watch for anything suspicious."

"Already way ahead of you, Dave."

—-

Mrs. Brooks had bought some baby clothes and supplies the day before. Now she finished dressing Sean warmly in a blue jumpsuit and carried him to the top of the stairs. She missed having a baby in the house, and she felt blessed to look after this little boy. And his brother.

"Jessie, who was at the door?" she called down the stairs. No reply.

Strange. Mrs. Brooks came downstairs and didn't see anyone in the parlor. Only a single lamp lit up the room, but she could make out the kitchen light pouring from the doorway around the corner. Somehow she knew without a doubt that something was wrong.

Mrs. Brooks walked slowly and quietly to the kitchen. She heard a whispered voice—a man's voice. It was not her husband's. Perhaps it came from whoever was at the door, but she doubted it.

Mrs. Brooks peered into the kitchen. It took her a few seconds to process what she saw: the three teenagers huddled on the floor, all held at gunpoint by a sloppy, greasy-looking man who faced away from the doorway. That was all the time she needed. Maternal protective mode went into overdrive.

"Your 2 o'clock, Aaron!" said Mrs. Brooks. Everyone looked up. Without another thought, she reached out and flicked off the kitchen light. The room vanished into darkness.

—-

Aaron barely caught a glimpse of Mrs. Brooks' face before the light sapped away. Her quick words cemented in his mind, and he focused ahead slightly to his right. He knew that was where Charles stood, but the fact that Mrs. Brooks told him made him realize the action he had to make.

Under the cover of sudden darkness, Aaron lunged in Charles' direction. He felt his hand collide with the gun and put all his strength into wrestling it away. Charles struggled back, and Aaron feared he would reach for the trigger.

Aaron pried at the man's fingers and shoved himself against Charles' body. A set of knuckles shot out of the darkness, but without visibility, they only grazed Aaron's cheek. Aaron heaved his body against his stepfather's, and they both slammed into a counter edge. Their grappling hands knocked against something hard, and Aaron felt the man's grip release. He heard the gun thunk to the floor a second later.

Before he could dive for the weapon, Aaron felt a stony arm lock around his neck. An elbow plunged into his side, and he suddenly couldn't breathe.

—-

Mrs. Brooks didn't know if she was thinking clearly. She only knew that the children would have no chance to fight back if that man had the light on his side.

Moving quickly, Mrs. Brooks carried Sean back into the parlor and opened a foot locker behind the couch. Only a few pairs of shoes carpeted the bottom of the oak chest, and Mrs. Brooks placed Sean into the dark container. She jammed a shoe into the crack between the box and the lid to keep it from closing all the way. "I'll be back," she whispered, then she hurried back to the kitchen.

She heard sounds of a scuffle and wondered if she should turn the light back on. Someone knocked into her, and she tensed.

Then she heard the girl's whisper: "Mom?"

Jessica. "Shh," said Mrs. Brooks. "Get outside and go get help."

Jessica rushed past her into the dimly lit parlor and headed toward the back door. Mrs. Brooks ventured into the kitchen, unsure of what or whom she would find.

—-

Gideon found the back door behind the house, but Rossi felt uneasy about sneaking around.

"Did you call for backup?" Rossi asked his partner.

"I thought you said that you were all the backup I'd ever need," Gideon replied.

"Yeah, Jason, that was when I saved you from a reporter's nosiness. We don't know what's inside this house."

"Do you think someone's in danger?"

"I don't know what to think."

Gideon placed a hand on his holster. "Then let's find out."

Before he could reach for the doorknob, the door swung open. A young girl, about thirteen, gasped in surprise at the sight of them.

Rossi cast Gideon a sideways glance. _You explain this one, buddy._

The girl partially closed the door behind her and whispered, "Who are you?"

Gideon and Rossi pulled out their badges and flipped them open almost in sync. They had been practicing that move for awhile now, but it still needed a little work. "FBI Special Agents Jason Gideon and David Rossi," said Gideon, letting the girl compare their badges with their faces for a second. "What's your name?"

"Jessica Brooks. Please, I need your help. There's a bad man trying to hurt my family."

Gideon and Rossi exchanged a glance before drawing their guns. "Tell us more."

"It's Aaron's stepfather. He has a gun, and my mom and sister are in there along with Aaron and his brother."

Rossi nodded to his partner. "Let's go."

"You'll need lights," said Jessica.

The agents reached for their pocket flashlights. Gideon told Jessica to get to safety, and Rossi opened the door.

—-

Mrs. Brooks couldn't find Haley in the dark kitchen. She headed toward the sound of a struggle at her left and strained to see the two shadowy figures wrestling against the counter. Her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness quickly, but all she could make out was the difference in height between the combatants.

Mrs. Brooks couldn't see well, but she did know her kitchen. She reached for a frying pan which hung from a nail in the wall. Knowing that the taller figure was Aaron's stepfather, she swung the metal pan and crashed it into the back of his head. The slighter figure fell to the floor, having been released from his attacker's grip, and the man who'd been hit staggered for a second.

Mrs. Brooks aimed to strike again. Suddenly the man came at her with a swinging palm and knocked her weapon aside. Two beefy hands collided with her shoulders. She felt the wall slam into her back.

Trapped, Mrs. Brooks quickly estimated the location of her assailant's eyes. Forking two of her fingers, she sent a swift jab into the man's face and felt his orbs swivel under her fingers. She silently congratulated herself on her blind aim.

The man screamed and planted one hand on his face. Mrs. Brooks kicked him as hard as she could in what felt like the stomach.

As the man doubled over, Mrs. Brooks leaned over him threateningly. "You will never hurt my family again, you monster!" she said. "Not my daughters, and not my boys either!"

She couldn't tell what he was doing, but she feared she had given him a brief advantage in her hesitation. She reached down to subdue him, but an iron claw caught her wrist. Next she felt a long, cold blade slip under her clavicle, and she struggled to breathe through the pain.

Her daughter must have heard her gasp, for suddenly Haley's voice rang out. "Mom! Are you hurt?"

"Knife," Mrs. Brooks choked the warning.

The blade slipped out of her, and she sank to the floor with both hands over the wound. It wasn't so bad really. She had to get up and fight. But suddenly she didn't know which way was up. She couldn't fight any more than she could move.

_Dear God, protect my children. All four of them._

—-

On his hands and knees, Aaron could feel his ribs scraping against each other. He coughed and gathered his senses. The room was still as dark as it was before.

As he moved, his hand brushed against something cold and hard. Aaron drew the object closer and felt the clear shape of the revolver. He knew the hammer was already pulled back. One wrong move could end badly for everyone. He held it carefully in one hand and began feeling his way across the floor.

"Aaron!" he heard Charles shout. "It's over! I have your girlfriend, and I'm about to cut her throat open. Where are you, Aaron?"

Aaron didn't know whether or not to believe the man, but he couldn't take any chances. So he crawled silently in the direction of the voice.

"Answer me, Aaron! You won't want to miss this."

Aaron could make out the faint outline of the man beside the table. He raised the gun, but then he heard Haley's strained breathing. Charles probably shielded himself with Haley. Aiming was impossible in the dark.

"I'm going to kill all of you, starting with the girl," said Charles, and Aaron didn't know what he could possibly do to stop him.

—-

Gideon's flashlight beam swept through a tidy laundry room immediately inside the back door. The two agents stepped cautiously around laundry baskets and boxes of detergent. Rossi reached the open door at the end before his partner and quickly scanned the next room.

This room looked like a parlor. A single lamp brought some light over the ominous shapes of furniture. The agents didn't know why every window was blacked out, but it didn't bother them as much as the crashing sounds around the wall.

With guns and flashlights raised, the agents cleared the parlor. Rossi took a quick look up the staircase but didn't see anything of immediate concern. He followed Gideon to a doorway around the corner, and their lights washed over the unmistakable shapes of a kitchen table and countertop. Gideon's beam rested on the upper half of a stubbly man who held a teenaged girl to his chest. The man clenched a bloody knife to the girl's neck, dangerously close to her carotid artery.

The man squinted in the sudden glare, and Gideon opened his mouth to make an order. He didn't get the chance.

—-

Aaron didn't know where the light came from. One second, all was dark. In an instant, Charles' evil glare appeared above the table with Haley's frightened face below his. Aaron saw the gleaming, bloody knife at Haley's neck, and he saw Charles' claw tighten on the handle.

The spotlight remained a mystery, but Aaron knew exactly what he needed to do. Raising the gun so it aligned at a perfect upward angle with Charles' head, he held his breath and squeezed the trigger.

Aaron's eardrums seemingly blasted apart the same second he saw a spot of red appear on Charles' forehead. Bluish smoke ribboned across the beam of light, and Charles blinked at him, shocked. The knife fell from his hand. He then toppled with Haley still held against his chest.

Two people rushed in on either side of Aaron. One of them grabbed his shoulders and steadied him while the other went around the table with a gun and flashlight. Aaron didn't lower the revolver. He couldn't yet be sure that Haley was safe or that these two newcomers posed no threat.

The man at Aaron's side seemed to be talking, but Aaron couldn't hear a word. When he finally looked into the worried, familiar face of the brown-haired agent, he felt a mixture of relief and concern.

Aaron dropped the gun. "I did it to protect my family," he said.


	29. Chapter 29 -- Last Chance

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE — Last Chance

—-

For the first day or so, she couldn't see much past the oxygen mask over her face. Steady beeping and hissing sounds underlined every discordant dream that washed through the clean-smelling room. Nothing completely erased the piercing pain in her shoulder, but she did appreciate the morphine drip that never ran dry at the bedside. An uncomfortable handcuff held one of her hands to the bedrail, serving as a constant reminder of her miserable choices.

A single recurring dream kept Mrs. Hotchner from getting any real rest. She saw the love of her life, the handsome Army man who carried more scars than he knew what to do with. Mrs. Hotchner loved that man, with all his valor, all his troubles, and all his resilience. He often said that she saved his life out of the Army and inspired him to enter law school, but in truth he saved her. In her dreams, she danced with him again.

Somehow, she no longer knew how, this miraculous man left her alone with a good-for-nothing look-alike. She then tried to replace her perfect man, and the loveless monster that took over her life never went away. Depression consumed her, but in her dreams, she forced herself to see past it. Too late, she saw what a danger this new man was to her children.

She didn't open her eyes soon enough. The dream always ended the same: Charles left her to die and then hunted Aaron down. Aaron, her little boy. The dear child who stole her husband from her, even while they were all together. The only change in her dreams was how she found Aaron at the end. One time, she found him with his body shredded by a knife. Another time, he had a chestful of bullets. Most frequently, she found him beaten beyond recognition.

Each time, Mrs. Hotchner knelt beside her boy's broken, bloody body and wrapped her arms around him. No tears came as she held him. She was in shock and felt that her soul had been torn apart.

"Aaron, I've killed you. Just like your father. I didn't protect you."

When she woke up, she lay there feeling completely drained. She thought about what she would do if she had another chance. She could have saved Aaron. Somewhere along the way, she could have prevented this tragedy.

Why did she even hate her son? He had never done anything to hurt her. No matter how she tried to hand over to him the load of pain and sadness that broke her own spirit, she knew she had no right to make him the scapegoat. She should have been carrying him through the hard times, not forcing him to carry her. Now her misjudgements had killed him, and she would never be forgiven.

Perhaps this was for the better. With Aaron dead, she couldn't hurt him anymore. All she had left to wish for was to follow him quickly and painlessly, but she didn't deserve even that.

Although the doctors said her condition had improved and she could even sit up, Mrs. Hotchner had no desire to live on. The weight of all she'd done in the years since her husband died crushed the life in her heart. She had left Aaron to die without a mother or a father.

A nurse soon came around the curtain and checked Mrs. Hotchner's vitals. Then she gently said, "Your son wants to see you now, ma'am."

"Sean?" In all the confusion since Charles shot her, Mrs. Hotchner almost forgot about her other baby boy. When Charles went out to kill Aaron, she knew he wouldn't hurt the baby, and now she only had one boy to cling to. She just wasn't sure she could hold on even for him. "I'll see him," she sighed, having nothing else to do.

The nurse left, and a short while later, Mrs. Hotchner heard someone approaching. Only she didn't hear footsteps; she heard a strange creaking sound. The curtain wafted to the side, guided by a thin hand, and a boy in a wheelchair steered himself toward the bed. Instantly, Mrs. Hotchner recognized the apparition from her dream, and she realized she hadn't awoken after all.

Like his mother, Aaron wore a thin, white hospital gown. He looked pale, and several dark bruises stood out on his face, arms, and bare feet. He looked as though he had been ill, and his expression made no change when he saw his mother's face.

Mrs. Hotchner realized this might be her last chance to change the ending of the dream. She had to do whatever she could to keep her son from harm's way, so she held up a hand. "Don't come near me, Aaron."

He had stopped moving and didn't look like he intended to come any nearer.

"I don't know anymore what I might do," said Mrs. Hotchner. "I can't be sure I won't hurt you."

Aaron still said nothing. His silence was unnerving. He was only a mirage, but his mother didn't want to lose him again. What could she do? What could she say?

"Charles wants to kill you," she said. "You have to hide where he can't find you."

"Mom," said the boy in a startlingly real voice. "Charles is dead."

Impossible. "Aaron..." Mrs. Hotchner started to choke. "This must be another dream. Or are you really there?"

His parched lips parted to allow a whisper. "I'm here."

Mrs. Hotchner's breathing jerked. "Squeeze my hand, Aaron."

He slowly reached over, and she felt the boy's thin hand clasp her fingers. At his touch, a lone tear shot down the side of her face. "Aaron, you're alive?"

He nodded solemnly.

Mrs. Hotchner closed her eyes as sobs shook her body. She started to draw Aaron's hand to her face, but he gently pulled away.

She wiped her tears on the back of her hand. "You're alive," she whispered again. "And Sean?"

"He's fine. Doc says you can see him later."

She took a deep breath. "You should leave me alone here. You surely have better things to do than share in my misery."

Aaron shook his head. "I'm here now. I don't know if you'll ever see me again, so I want to stay for a minute."

"So have you come to mock me one last time?" The minute she said it, she knew she didn't really mean it. She just projected her guilt to her son automatically.

"I've come to say goodbye," said Aaron steadily.

"You're wasting your time. You're _alive_, Aaron. You should be getting as far from me as you can."

"Not yet."

"Well, I'm sorry for everything. Is that what you want to hear? Will you forgive me?"

"I don't know. I've tried, but I'm not ready yet."

"Then what do you want from me?"

He paused, studying her face. "Nothing. Goodbye, Mom."

With that, he placed his hands on the wheels of his chair. He was going to slip away again, disappear forever. Mrs. Hotchner raised a weak hand to stop him. "Aaron, wait."

He faced her again and stared sadly at her limp form. Mrs. Hotchner felt tears trickle down to her ears, and she sniffed up mucus. She felt like nothing, worse than nothing, in the presence of the boy she had traumatized and almost seen killed. She didn't think he was willing to hear anything she had to say, but what if this was truly the last time she ever saw him?

He was a good boy, she realized. He was actually a blessing, her own child, a miracle. She now knew she would have done absolutely anything differently to keep him with her.

"I love you, my son," she murmured. She really meant it this time, from the most sincere corner of her heart.

Aaron's hard expression softened only a fraction. After an uneasy few seconds, he wheeled his chair closer to the bed and leaned over his mother's face. Not hesitating anymore, Aaron planted a slow, gentle kiss on Mrs. Hotchner's forehead. She wanted his lips to linger for awhile longer.

Too soon, Aaron backed away. He pulled a thin metal case that looked like his father's old Army Bible from the side of his chair and placed it on the bedside table. Then he steered himself out of the room without looking back.

Mrs. Hotchner could still feel his parting kiss on her head. Though perhaps he didn't want to say it, she knew Aaron loved her, in his way. He may need more time to forgive her, but for now she was content to know he didn't hate her like he probably should.

She looked over at the Bible, then at the ruffled curtain where her son disappeared.

_Goodbye, Aaron. Have a good life._

—

_**Please review! There is one more chapter to come, and I hope you enjoy it (I know I'm excited for it)! Let me know what you think. Thanks!**_

_**-LTLS**_


	30. Chapter 30 -- Potential

CHAPTER THIRTY — Potential

—

Aaron sat shivering in the metal chair beside the bed in his hospital room and gazed absently at the handful of hibiscus flowers Haley had left him in a bedside vase. He had so much on his mind, he could hardly see the colorful petals.

It was hard to face the fact that the abuse was truly over. Aaron was used to finding only temporary solace while knowing in the back of his mind that he would always return to his violent household. This time, could it be true that he was really free?

He had said goodbye to his mother, something he never thought he would do. He now had to decide whether or not to press charges against her. He wondered how she would benefit by spending the rest of her miserable years in prison. Better that than let her raise Sean alone with her unpredictable temper.

And Charles... Aaron shuddered every time he remembered the sound of the gunshot and the force of the gun kicking back into his hand. Now that was an impossible ending. He kept expecting Charles to storm into his room and drag him back home. How could the monster be gone so suddenly?

The Brooks had just been by to see him. They all commended his fast action and thanked him for saving their lives. When he saw their faces, he knew why he pulled the trigger. This new family of his was clearly worth fighting for.

Mrs. Brooks had taken a knife to the shoulder in Aaron's defense, but she only needed a couple stitches and seemed to be recovering very well. Aaron actually felt that she had done more to save him than he had done to save her family.

Now with the Brooks waiting outside, a doctor gave Aaron a quick update on his health. Due to Aaron's combined injuries and illness, he had developed an internal temperature imbalance condition which would make him feel extra cold all the time. The doctor recommended regularly wearing longsleeves.

"Just think," she said encouragingly. "If you ever take a job where you have to wear a suit, you'll be comfortable even on hot days while everybody else is sweltering."

Aaron frowned, not wanting to see himself taking a job that required such permanent formality. But he shrugged it off and asked, "Is there anything else I should know about?"

"Your ribs needed to be realigned, but they should heal quickly. We found some previously untreated broken bones, but most of them seem to have healed themselves quite well. Some of your cuts still stand a risk of infection, but with regular check-ups, we can avoid that."

"Is that all?"

"That's all." The doctor paused. "Mr. Hotchner, I think you'll be alright. You are a very strong young man."

He looked down briefly. "So can I have my clothes back?"

"Very soon. Now, unless you need anything else, there are a couple gentlemen here to see you."

Aaron didn't want anybody else seeing him in hospital garb, but he agreed to let the visitors in. When the doctor left, the two familiar FBI agents entered.

Aaron sat straight up. "Agent Gideon." He shook each man's hand. "Agent Rossi."

Rossi smiled pleasantly. "Good to see you in one piece, Hotch."

"It's Hotchner, sir."

Rossi waved him off. "That's too long. I've got a lot to say and I like shortcuts."

Aaron didn't really mind.

Rossi's tone became solemn. "I'm sorry for all you've been through," he said.

"_Hamakom yenachem,_" added Gideon softly.

Aaron accepted their condolences and glanced questioningly at Gideon. Though they didn't seem upset at him, he was feeling nervous about the purpose of their visit. Figuring the agents wanted to get down to business, he quickly explained, "Honestly, I can't believe I shot my stepfather. I didn't mean to kill him. It was the gun, it just..."

Gideon held up a hand. "Calm down. You don't need to carry a gun to kill someone. Your stepfather killed himself long before you pulled the trigger."

Aaron fell silently, thinking over what the agent said. "What do you mean?"

"I can guarantee you, Aaron, you will not be charged with killing your stepfather. We were there, and we can easily tell everybody you did it in defense of life."

"Good shot, by the way," added Rossi.

"Aside from the shooting, which you will be cleared for, I understand you've gotten yourself a small criminal record." Gideon had on a sly grin.

"I beg your pardon?" Aaron said, feeling a little trapped.

"Trespassing on a crime scene?" Gideon's smirk grew. "Didn't think you could hide that from a couple FBI agents, now did you?"

Rossi started to laugh. "Good one, kid, but I already beat you to it. I probably hold the record for crime scene trespasses."

As Aaron watched the agent laugh, he was tempted to smile along. He didn't quite understand the jovial mood of his visitors, but at least it put him more at ease.

Gideon picked up the conversation again. "Since a criminal record, however small, could hamper your chances of someday working with us, we've agreed to have your record expunged."

Aaron stared. "What?"

"Well, it's not like you were killing people or stealing things," said Rossi, just getting over his chuckles. "What you did was relatively tame. And I know that with a clean record, Hotch, you will really make something of yourself."

Still unsure, Aaron asked, "What do you mean, I might someday work with you?"

The agents exchanged a glance, a little more serious now.

"Do you know why we were looking for you the other day?" asked Rossi.

Aaron shook his head.

"We wanted to thank you for your insight on the Archer case," said Rossi. "On your suggestion, we re-interviewed Gerald Archer, and we confirmed that he was abused by his parents, just like you said. A further investigation found his ties to the man who broke out of jail, and from him we got a confession that the two young men worked together to kill Mr. and Mrs. Archer."

Gideon added, "With that case solved, we realized we needed to check back on you. You told us you were a victim, and we simply can't overlook that."

Aaron just stared at them, absorbing the information with a bit of surprise.

Rossi spoke, "You've got a keen mind, Hotch, and a lot of potential. Would you consider working in criminal investigations someday?"

"Well, yes, sir. I want to be a criminal prosecutor."

"What about going higher? Law enforcement, FBI?"

Aaron shook his head. "I don't know. It'll be difficult enough getting into law school. I can't imagine how to then work my way into a top-level agency."

In truth, he still felt small and incapable, flattened into the underachieving mold his mother had built for him. He didn't really believe he would ever make it to law school, much less to the FBI.

"I've seen what you're capable of," said Gideon. "And I firmly believe you have the potential to work your way up to a significant career where you can finally fight the evil forces that have plagued you. Don't listen to the people that tear you down. If you have a calling, son, you can and you _will_ see it through. I'm sure of that."

Aaron gazed, humbled, at the young agent's sincere brown eyes. "Really?" he whispered.

"Absolutely."

Aaron had never before been encouraged to make the most of his life. Now these agents, who hardly knew him, had inspired him to reach higher than ever before. He kept wondering if they were right, or if he was still dreaming too big.

"Well, if you really want to be a prosecutor, I encourage you to do that," said Gideon. "I just hope you stay in touch with us feds."

"And if you ever change your mind and want to try out the FBI, I would love to have you come work with me in the Seattle office," said Rossi. "I wouldn't mind mentoring you."

"Thank you both," said Aaron.

"You've survived a lot," said Gideon. "Don't give up now."

Aaron looked away and bit his lip. Something still bothered him. "No one can ever know about what happened to me," he said quietly.

Rossi bent down to meet his eye. "Don't be ashamed about it. It wasn't your fault."

"It's not that, it's just... I don't want anyone to know. That's all."

"Don't worry about that," said Gideon. "Your past won't define you."

Rossi looked at his watch. "I'm sorry, but we have to get going now. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything."

"Thank you," said Aaron. "You'll never know what this means to me."

Gideon reached out to shake his hand. He had a firm but comforting grip. "Bye for now, Aaron. We'll give you a call now and then if you'd like."

Aaron nodded.

Rossi then came up to shake his hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I'll see you around, Hotchner."

Aaron smiled. "I like 'Hotch.'"

Rossi smiled back and gave him a light pat on the shoulder.

With that, the two agents left the room. Aaron stared after them amazed that they saw something worthwhile in his weak and wounded self.

Later, Haley came to see him while he was holding Sean. He had been telling Sean stories about Mr. Hotchner and encouraging him not to worry about what would happen to them. The future was filled with uncertainties. Aaron didn't know if he and his brother would be sent to foster care now, and if they were, he didn't know if they could stay together. He felt anxious about the idea of being placed in a separate home from his brother and leaving the baby with no familial ties to grow up with. He even considered running off and raising Sean on his own, but he still had no means of support.

Haley came in and sat on a chair beside the boys. She didn't say anything, and he welcomed her peaceful presence. They sat in silence, reflecting on their lives since they met onstage so many months ago, and quietly thanking God for the chance to look after each other. They did not know how much they would see each other from now on or what kind of future they might eventually have together, but they felt content in the knowledge that their love was unshakeable.

Aaron kept glancing out toward the windows at the front of the ER where he had last seen those two agents walk away. He thought about all they had said and he pondered the multiple unknowns of his future. Could he really take up the fight against people like his stepfather and make a difference for other victims? Did he have that potential?

Him, Aaron Hotchner, in the FBI? Interesting idea.

THE END

—

_**That's all! Please, please, please review!**_

_**I have ideas for more stories, but I will probably take a break from fanfiction now. I can't say when I might be back, and I want you to know what an honor it's been to write for all you and for you to give me some of your time.**_

_**Special thanks to Mossnose173 for encouraging me in the onset of this story, Coofis for providing valuable feedback and incredible support, pechika, MiniWinchester, kurussom, BAUProfileQueen, hippiechic81, RissaGrace17, and all my Guest readers for your helpful reviews, and everybody else who read the story, and all who followed and favorited it! I would love to know what you think. Your comments make it worth it.**_

_**Thank you for this chance to share my story. God bless you all!**_


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